Black Water   I spit his name out & four wolves appear. Black, eyes silvery, ears skinned & tense. They thrash their tails twice then rush toward me. A dark pouring. I stagger back, raise my arms. I’d watch him lather his throat. Once a week, for a year. How the oval mirror held him.…

Fresco   Those long-dead painters must have thought it was impossible to remake the world however tender the flowers and birds they left lightly suspended in tempera whose modest visible brushstrokes are like a hand put out to touch the other world they inhabit now or this painted world that they re-enter coming with us…

Late   Not much use saying then I was busy I was asked as if to suggest there were orders I only followed useless afterwards when you find it was your life you murdered your own life that mobile muscled thing so sweet to hold but always slipping out of your arms grasping and letting…