Tuesday, 6 June 2000

September Morning

as the window opens the sun slides along the wall
the bird simply steps from the ledge, out
drops,
being dead
is not to be able to brush the dirt from your fur to
have slugs
on your eyes

now, the early morning, the children
stand, looking, in
slippers on the wet grass

nearly covered i am afraid to drop earth on your head
the sea, the sea fills the whole horizon

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