A WOMAN
Like water
Does a woman
Yield to the shape of the vessel she bears
The weight she holds
She carries like concrete and mortar
Waterlogged in the anchorages
Like sodden bales of fabric
She hoists as though were tousled feathers in her hair
The strength of warhorses
With wings made of steel
The clangor of altruism
And charity
That is she
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SOUL THIEVES
It reeked of deathThe stench of quietusWith mangled breathIn a naked room
THE ANCHORAGE
There came the fiery loughIn a cavern not too far awayI retreated to the firth of your benign an
Spilled Milk
Almost fondlyWith fervent stareI welcome you to slip cautiouslyInto a moldable feast

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