3.
All professions are full of grief
the west wind’s ghost stories all
night long
sometimes is cold enough
to be at peace
nail half an orange to the rail
finches love to plunge in
and walk downhill on someone else’s
feet
sarabande of rainy morning
old Scottish battlecry measure the
sky with your hands
rain on the windowpane
tiny boxing gloves from rearview mirror
slung
still at sea but married young.
