Down In The Park
Miles From Home,
Nature-‘s Beauty Torments And Admonishes.
My Envy Ploughs The Hue,
Trenched And Stuck
As A Trodden Knag.

You Don-‘t Love Me Like I Want You To.
You Love Somebody And That
Matters, Matters More Now.
You Gestated For A While,
Then Spat Out
Whole
The Nourishment
I Supplied
To Fatten You.
The Chord Is Hacked, There Is Nothing Feeding Me,
The Embroidery We Created
Is Cut And Bleeding.
The Great Deracinated Oak,
Its Acorns Scattered Orphans,
Arches Back Inviting Me To Its Thick Ledge.
The Leaves Are Falling.
The Dusk.
The Anvil.
My Peace Crucifies My Loved Ones,
But I Am Free Of Colours,
As The Daisies Recoil Till Morning.