it fetches water from the far reaches of the Mediterranean
it brings cloud this morning over the olive grove
in the night the motorbike skidded to its death
the cars sliding under the bright full moon
i had one hand on the wheel
we were kissing the moon and the night
we stripped the blackness
sip my coffee this morning
gather the dead carcasses of the slugs
as i write to the soul music from that other planet
where my fellow poetess suffers
where they are trying to stop her beauty
with forms to compile and post
with lawyers and injunctions
with the insults of jealousy
and inverted adulation
i pick up the compost and the slender tomato plants
what else can i do
i must take advantage of these first clouds
i have lost too many seedlings already
their leaves crinkled or black
you learn falling the man said
there is no way forward
which is not backwards
into the errors we can repair
with love
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