Night Grammar
A night so cold that the grass uprooted trees.
Do you remember? The night
we ate the cold and marigold fire flew in.
Clothes hung in a dark garden:
fish stolen in the sloe-black depths of ponds
bare walls and passiflora fierce and purple against the gloom.
Remember how light skimmed the window sill and
though nimble fingered found itself hymned away
by the dark earth of our sleep?
