One, I could hammer into a shed door,
the back of it,
all rough with splinters.
Rocking her in your arms
you walked around the kitchen
minding the white
did not snag
Think of that. Was it her or me?
Was it to still my clamour?
plain salute mark creep lapse sign oral freak chart detail total drill squat
Then, away yard, eh?
bloody nice, fire in the throat.
Drumstick crew has run crazy along the quay.
And the iron is a doll now, sling it in the boat.
Estuary harvest, mud neck and crop,
like dill tongues,
well, that was the parish:
husk and creature plaited to a penny piece.
The television sun
Was is to make your point,
Was it to still my clamour,
the needles are swarming up the woods
growing so close
I think it says