Tooting letter to the unknown soldier
Light of the moon. Star singing for the bird.
On lanes and land larks rise, witness all.
Beyond dark-water, beer-bottles, concerns.
Comfort taken in the cold awakes the scent of bitter herb
while you censor letters.
Lie down – the linnet calls.
Random who escapes and what remains untouched
by God’s intervention. Yes – so have I heard.
And do in part believe. Heels hammer beat and home
on feet unsteady, towards the forest’s burning fall.
Shells burst the invisible –
glory to the blackbird.
This morning chill hurts my skin. Delights my mind.
Sleeping awake in spring snow. Count and record
men – equal all: though some consigned to trucks.
All that is loved and daily left behind.
Polaris, singular, shines.
Don’t know why – I could have cried.