I Am Here

Some hours,

Several lifetimes away, it seems,

Metalled dancers will hang on to dragonets

That must spit, snarl, duel and – gods-be-kind –

Finish with flourishes.

I am here; this is now. Dark November

I lean back in chair-that-will-be-burned,

Stare up till focus be lost, through the

Sweet branches of my life at

Pretty, temporary sparks that

Bomb and crayon these seconds.

Beyond are the true stars that may

No longer be there.

Around me, beyond my control,

Outside my bubble

Families grow up, Taking their leaves,

Their responsibilities.

Despite the distances I love them still.

Some Goats

To the hapless generations

Along the no-shelter, refugee road;

Squirming on the sacrifice hook,

Pale-promise words mean

Less than half of zero.

They’re looking to find their

Own sharp answers – who can blame them? –

In the shallow sand beds,

The desert bred roundness of stones.

Long-shadowed strangers

Balanced on the horizon

Aren’t getting any closer:

Some goats know how to

Deal with wolves, but

Will they pass the secret on?