Toward the garrison
a silver plate

 

won the favor

The Hand of the Maiden
grew instantly brave

At this critical moment
unbeknownst
the sky was gray

dark clouds turned the water
leaping beneath the blade

a blue stocking borrowed

black kettles hang
on long bent hooks

How about a trade?

your long knitting needles
for my nimble fingers

You’d better have

run away behind the rail fence
madder than a Snake

as the needle points
these laws obey

Laughing at the ones who ran away

half-crazed
as summer waned
all was finally arranged

through the window
Beasts
 

Spectres
measure sunset
from interior rooms

remember brown hair by the firelight
when you were numb from cold

through vivid words
the trackless hills
other hillsides were persuaded
 

other peaks lamented;

other lives desired

​

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