by Gideon Burton
Attending to the wounds again. The sky
undressed unclotting, losing moons. The sea
congealing, thatching thick its womb, its sluice
of sudden signs disgorging magma sighs,
the gorged and gouging constellations speed
to dissolution, marked and marking loose
parentheses, apologies unfit
for numbered sparrows, preening pawns, for us.
This bandaging the hemispheres, this small
absorption, mist along the cheek, this spit
and clay and mealy middle blindness, truss
and timber, crucifix and shepherd's stall
and all the sodden sympathies again.
Be this, be here, be whole, the veil is rent.
Photo: flickr - murphyeppoon