In cold weather on a
garden swing, his legs
in wellingtons rising over
the winter rose trees
he sits serenely
smiling like a Thai
his coat open, his gloves
sewn to the flapping sleeves
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The Celebrants
1 Remember Melusine morose specter, whose own superstition once made a serpent of her: she was betwitched into a myth by chance out of her housekeeping because she was credulous, and so wandered […]
Our Vegetable Love Shall Grow
Shaking in white streetlight in a cold night wind, two luminous blue fangs push through the grass at the bus shelter: an early crocus, drawing color from some hidden underfoot […]
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