From The Rules of the Game. Published by Quattro Books in 2012.
to Gwendolyn MacEwen
Tired of living, your sail shredded by your ruined nails, Your body—frost garrotes it, it huddles in fear, It harries the crows, and on a blank horizon blood Freezes. Can’t you hear anymore, don’t you feel pain? Maybe you’ve deciphered the monstrous, mysterious hieroglyph That burns between our lips and never forgives, the Word On the anvil? Closed over yourself, you drift downstream With no sorrows, memories or scents to paint your eyes: A fiery needle sewed them shut forever and now you’ve become Only an image, a cipher at the end of the blind knot.
