18 January 2006
spelt incorrectly
not in my alphabet
this gutteral twang
when a bird falls
into dazzled ears
or scrawls
rain on a beach
like you it loses
definition
blurs inward
the etchings of war
I tore from the library book
I was told to incinerate
but I smelt
a change in the weather
and paused
for the sun and moon dance
saw them
tick days by
arc through the sky
in seconds
by then the images
were deep inside
and subdued