Lullabye
Now the sun’s gone down,
The time has come
For the hourglass
And the skeleton,
For the moon and stars
At the top of the stairs
Singing softly:
“Come say your prayers.”
Connoisseur
She loves the Stonecrop’s mat of light-yellow-green leaves,
Overlapped; its roots spread out in branched arrangements;
Its flowers small, clustered, with
Narrow, pointed, bright-
Yellow petals; its fruits slender-tipped,
Six to an inch: also Dark Eyes,
Brass Buttons,
Baby Tears,
Blue Moneywort with sprawling, smooth, two-foot stems that
Take root where they touch damp ground
In shade or sun—or White Trumpet Creeper… She loves
All that stuff
That grows between stones.
Kore
In a smear
of red earth
darkened by rain
in the brush
on the bank
she moves
stealing back
come up
out of hell
again:
the daughter,
the violets.
Grey Sparrow Journal 