A storm                                   black bag clouds

over the clotted mountains

            zooing in/the wind

nitters & natters.

            Apart from the lyric moment

when will it rain?


& you have wandered off beyond

my lantern                               become

            a chisel mark

            full of dust & slack steel

unhealed, unhealable

unstacking yourself

            in another darkness:

The dim drops shatter.



            the doctor’s machine

scooped it up to heaven

in a pair of new shoes

            & our Shining Watcher


true                              between here and there

calls us to breakfast, lunch, even                                dine

                        with unreasonable relatives

(less their umbrellas


river sloped, shoveled by the wind.


Will you return, knees

tucked beneath your chin

grown older, prettier, than the flower that we dreamed?

Will you come here for a moment?




Will you?






By Jesse Glass
illustration Rupert Loydell

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