How did this happen?
Reclaim the shape made in bare feet
Anger is relief stained glass
Mouthing unfinished priests
God forbid we unloosen sickness
Saphron cushions contain my doubling
Low melon red lamps like wide hipped women selling spice from bulging barrels
She irons the crumpled currency with her weak hand
They say red hair is like knitted wool
Blessing low clouds with
Autumn
Baby can you hear the fear?