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14 Winter Words Calendar pages: one scrumpled day dies in a garden spun to fool’s gold, where wind mews over twigs and bones at an outhouse door, black sky sustains the buoyancy of loss, dried sap knots branch to branch, caging a star whose variable glance is light’s tumult cut to the quick yet cold to the retina as once upon a time, remembered pain.
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ut of Reach Think of a hand-slip, a spun summit bothered by mist, the whirr and thrum of dark metals, a stranded face minding a gap which widens, widens, leaves one candle to burn in silence, late summer wings to char on glass, unspoken words to spell their spells forwards, backwards — fine fruit to hang in armouries of thorn for the devil to spit on. 15

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14 Winter Words

Calendar pages: one scrumpled day dies in a garden spun to fool’s gold, where wind mews over twigs and bones at an outhouse door, black sky sustains the buoyancy of loss, dried sap knots branch to branch, caging a star whose variable glance is light’s tumult cut to the quick yet cold to the retina as once upon a time, remembered pain.

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