cont.

***

A ship in the broken waters

shameless distance of you and me

people under a streetlamp, 

their shoes crunch 

the glass of goodbye.

Like a swarm of fog-birds

in the weird light of dream

(how like a wharf!)

I disembark

the bastard world of a ship

Nothing’s sister

one of those make-believe faces

that brings me to you.

***

First thing you 

wake up in me

thaw, thrill

the melting snow

of you I thaw

word wakes inside 

the world saying, feckless

valueless

  but for love

that is no value

but whatever. Anything.

A gift.

Thrill of

inside

of sparrows

fastest in the 

morning, vaulted

over my old church

at the thought of you

hovering on the horizon

of sleep or sheep:

all species of

relation,

and the departures

necessary, to be sparrow

or lover, or picaroon

as we are 

leaving the event

the birds the wet

road between us.

He (whoever he is)
gives one last look back

from between his legs from

the middle of the bridge

    fin of the open

inspired duct, open mouthed

yellow perch

of the stream as it moves through

past the paper-mill.