poetry anthology

were it not for that singular smell
sleep, gray brother of death
the shadows of the ships
good woman
the lightning flashed, and lifted
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
she must go back, she said
when night drifts along the streets of the city
i shall see a star tonight
he came and took me by the hand
why so sad my lovely one?
out of me unworthy and unknown
calm as that second summer