Her Eyes Are Wild

warmer than summer
underneath the haystack
the English tongue

she drinks beer
from the supermarket
in the town square
feeding potato-chips
to pigeons and sparrows

how far I’ve travelled to find
one need replaces another

her dog growls
at midnight revellers
coming too close
as she sleeps soundly
in the shoe-shop doorway

the night in my hair
turns black
burning stars

paul conneally & debra woolard bender
from The Wordsworth Papers

20140319-202941.jpg
Wordsworth after Pickersgill by Susumu Takiguchi

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