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Carol Watts


         In memory of Simon Howard


given out to dark
doused in turns  

each squall

              shuttered by

news cupped in silent
hands arriving

unsteady   exposured
where you were

luminance escaping

            to gardens or
latitudes I imagine

a return   to shadow
range   your swell become




so what breaks there
              possible speech?

clipped from
              lit margins

what brings you
voicing now?   pried from

stones   greenness
of    deeper silence

watered in   ending to
musical counter

as you would know

as you have known
those reservoirs?


how they pour   so
shy   saturate   

sung for  in droves
lichens on branches

unconscionable lace
I seek it   where you grow

dark   a sky   without stars
pure northern air  

culturing    while cold
defenestrations  take

over   cast now  make
gorgeous fans   silt out

this light   your goodness
its timbre    


January 2014



Copyright © Carol Watts, 2014.