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What bird was that obliterated
with its heavy wing the sun?

A legion of dust force marched
across the solitary wind
invades me

I could have spoken
with the narrow bone of your forearm
but I neglectful slept
just slept through grains and aeons
hand foot yard chain seconds seasons terms

Why do vain dust and the darkened bone
wrestle still for their place by the wall?

When the white stone flutters
in the intense heat
the river purrs in its night apart

I might have ravelled knotted time
out of your hair that goes on growing
into the night and hurts at dawn

I might have brought you water
to wash clear the blood from your lengthening nails
but I watched the high crop thorned with frost
quick courses clot locks close
on those whose property
is to be possessed at last


© Trevor Joyce