In the dream I am coming from a gathering of women. The streets are dark but for the faded light of a lonely streetlamp on a far corner. I approach the pay lot where I’d left my car.
June 2023
Pheasant Court (and other poems)
My mother / woke me one Christmas morning / to tell me they were here, their heads / and necks shimmering like tree tinsel, / their long tail feathers bright / as new copper pipes.
Evidence: Ten Photographs
A line divides the setting. Faintly purple and faintly grey, a washed-out sky dominates the upper two-thirds, gauzed in the thinnest quilt of clouds.