Clouds scattered across the sky        all so far away
and then the space between        this strange 'distance'
What does 'normal' mean, after all?        you move
toward the window        lights marking the headland
and the night becomes a milestone        though
I        the fog rolls up the hill from the sea
in waves the town        desperate?
Whichever way we look        though so much at hand
only held back by obsessions
but 'home' is so long ago        don't cry
the light's a very pale blue        then maybe        the next time too
a faint glimmer across the bay        neither moon
nor stars
and your letter making signs        concerning 'understanding'
and 'the magic tortoise'        what then?        or just tiredness

At each alternative        the colours in the sky
gradually changing        until you're lulled into believing
you've seen this before        but not quite
The wood-cut of a lone horseman
riding through a deathly countryside        raped

'You're very brave'        I clean the table-top
and you sat in that chair        two red poppies
in the garden below        at dawn
This apparent clumsiness is far from true