III. Works and Days
As rubble forms its rough cartography of our fall
but tells little or nothing of much but beauty.
As such rubble is nothing but symptoms or sultry
reminders we’re flesh that we ache above all.
As we have little but the sultry gestures of lovers;
our outlines pressed into patches of grass.
As the little we have must be shared with others
or rationed or sterilised by the glass.
As Hesiod said to the girls from Pieria
we’re haply destined to love our destruction.
As faith is the condition by which we sin
so I think of you I wish you were here.
from Confer (Bloodaxe, 2011), ? Ahren Warner 2011, used by permission of the author and the publisher