The wind blows through the tops of the pine trees.
Sound of things passing into the invisible.
Above their endless dark green constellation
the North Star turns eternally, invincible.
I was your slave, she said.
Where the obscure selves cross into the deep freeze.
On salvation road through the valley of slivers.
& her voice became silver on the point of a sword.
Ding - dong
the dark wind & the rain
(heart, petalled on a spine of steel, rose
into the dark green constellation, graven where
low broken lives might find your heaven)
Henry Gould | Island Road 74
Contents | Mudlark No. 6