One of the poems…
Blue
The fields had stood
bald for months:
the earth tight with
ice, the tubers
and kernels stashed
below locked
fast inside their
rinds. Then the hair
had started to fail
on the children,
their nails to turn
blue as forst
that spotted the
leaves, and the cow
would no longer
yield but had stalled
in the dust, refused
to rise.
So the parents had
nailed shut
the door and carried
the children,
light as shaken-out
sacks, to the town.
From the almshouse
walls they watched
clouds stiffen over
the sea, thought of
the boarded door,
the sealed ground.
They had left too
late for their daughter:
wrapped in white,
she was blessed in
the chapel as her
brother looked up,
up into the dome,
tipped the back
of his head to his
shoulders, filled
his eyes with the
ceiling’s empty bowl.
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