spring wrapped in shrouds feel the desperation 
of my punches in our daydreams* 
speak to us without 
mouths bruised harmonies 
   
your soft sounds reach but do not enter me yet 
you are a frozen river & i a boat*
ice-locked & vengeful
spewing steam

the moment your word becomes a bird & takes flight
even rumour turns on like the truth*
painted on a window 
thunder pines
   
spring you are a curl of smoke blown diagonally 
& a forest shot through with vapour trails*
or bullets that tremble 
sunlight hammers 
   
a thousand restless revolutions in your wings
when i sleep a child is born*
not knowing how to run 
not in my dream

& you'll come again soon like a rain of stones 
against the doorway of my love*
ajar but your sweetness & 
light!—I cry out!
 


Forthcoming in Southerly (3/2004)