24 November 2009


How brave those eyes, sidelong and lonely
Tender, stretched knowing and pangs struck
Across an anvil stretched from tip to toe.

Fingers first then greed comb over pelted arms
Posture like John from his Master, many fairer
Deign no greater good, abandon no lower canvas.

After disappearing, the blinking coastal air pants
Fever inhaling the deeper reds of the little girl's sunset
No one lonely: 'The still sand warmer on the beach.'

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