Dec
27
Heather
Sarah is in her dressing gown and her
Autumn sweater. Rachel has pine cones
In her teeth. Even the dream itself has breasts
Like low-lying clouds in a fat man’s
Hands. The seasons, verily, will never end.
Get up and go out into the field, my boy,
Where the girls are standing
Among the artworks. Your heart
Shall never be golden.
Your blonde hair shall never rise up
From the sea. Hear me, my boy. The girl is rising
For the planes to blow right through her,
Autumn sweater
In her teeth. She is more scared of you
Than you are of yourself.
