Always Written

Long greyfeather clouds

Carrying blue-light poison

To the moon;

Memory’s desperate fox

Cannot help, doesn’t

Have the stretch or

The strategies.

 

“Far away, far away,”

The young ones hopefully chant –

Distracted by bright-fool images –

As though it could, ever, be enough.

 

But patient snow

Is too silver-slow.

Last night’s secrets are

Always written on the ground.

 

26/11/2012

 

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