Saturday, February 4, 2012

“Split” © Mike Absalom

I too have tried to fly at
right angles
but without success.

Somewhere above our black
now marked as mine
a snipe brakes noisily
pulling the same stunt.

Beyond the ink wet field
we settled on,
pale ditches buck and shudder
like dragons in the
half-truth of dusk.

This side of the night
I spread my bed and lie in

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