April 2017

I decry the manner in which my world / was ransacked after dark, / by you, ghostly marauder / (bearded with ash, shrugging / shoulders of mould, eyes / gleaming…

My son held a bird / today on a class trip to the nature center. / At home, with an empty hand, he demonstrates / how to hold a bird…

Every week at birth class it’s the same / story the same flooding as we watch / a grainy movie of our long-awaited journey— / darkened sanctum heave and sweat…

We relocated the plants today– / disrupted whole ecosystems / unseen to our eyes. / We had to make room / for the new extension. / The gardener said /…

I carried my four-month-old / through my father’s field / along sunny mud walls. / At first I pointed, / saying the names of things– / bee, red willow, crab…