Tuesday, 21 September 2004

Excerpt from 'to a daughter born 1920':
and you are lit by candlepower
as you walk
serenaded by radio

white moths fly by light
whispers of rain
murmurs of thunder

there are clouds by your ankles
dust on your heels
freckles on your skin

a thin crown of sweat
wreathes your temples
drips into your eyes