Ere Met

Oh it isn’t autumn heartless

chromatic or sunbed coils

round the frame of the door

to the undertakers

antlion days

rushed indignant, the phone keeps going

not that you or any river should pick

from an anxious rush of tidy

they have police for

antlions

they come in cars get onto me

are meant if you will to protect us

what, the ones no one truly is

chromatic settling day

not autumn

but a better sign, intertwined gold

in the tacky pyramid sky, L Ron,

what were you thinking,

aren't they all so tragic.

Bridge of Sighs

or gentlest air

last night I prayed to God, I under

airless was

drunk and gone

to your prayed out frame, and what

now at home below the dark sky

to call out desperate

impossible air

troubling eye

to cry  in a little

echoed

empty still gentlest

cedar, of sighs and I am through to

put this kiss of the heart back

on the ground,

your ground, endless run of air,

or the last we spoke

your so calmed

diurnal sprung

and I was just then happily ground,

kissed and sighed on a bridge the gentlest heart

and of all of its carefully scatter

A Morning in Saint Helier

for Alexandrina Hemsley

Since the body left me

there have been so many sisters,

and our lives

agree our time

as we were walking

to the water, past

graves and the speaking

of how little now we say

uncountable love

in laughter and war

flowers

were the pressure.

And on, into the waves,

the minute

and what passes, as violence to see

into the swell like a chain

to an anchor, that you’re here

in our stones

they are the stars aboard the moon.

And at this empty little depth charge

where the mind agrees to fall,

to feel that I may love

inside the little uncondition, or the shore

as we sway

and are captured in her current;

returning and returning and return.

Of a morning

speaking only

for herself.