Print Issue 198 Autumn 2010
The Easement
dead ground [ ] in this median season
[ ] of trees ingrown [ ]
[ ] like scissors pushed [ ]
[ ] beneath our feet
[ ] known developers
rose from the sand [ ]
[ ] casting chicken prayer they
[ ] ate blue metal to survive there
above house cemetery [ ]
wild melons sprawled in to
rooms of weather [ ]
where once we held hands [ ] and plotted
or just touched [ ] palms
[ ] now the drained pool dreams
[ ] and parliament strays bite
holes in anything I write [ ]
[ at our easement]
