a goose feather
across acres of discarded reasons
tied in hair.

GHOSTS
Winter and the bitter fogs
Late morning sun. The year
On the brink of age and death -
A decade since the blossoming of a life.
Eyes like water bloomed to stars
On a summer night among the faces.
Things happen among faces
That are hidden in corners,
Darkened public rooms:
Haven may be found in darkened public rooms.
Walk through winter carrying a letter,
Footsteps light over falling leaves,
Yellow, dusty winter leaves,
To be caught for wishes
Yellow in the late, yellow sun
Devouring the fish fog.
Follow a flash of blue in the smoke
The tail of a shawl.
Illusion, that's all, in the end.
The moonlight silvers everything.
Colours grow the same
Cold and ghostly in a winter glass.
Shadows reach out, fall thick
Around the warmth of a bed.
Colour dies and motions change.
What flashed blue in the fog,
What figure ran by ?
The grey parting for a chink of sun
And the shimmer of water in the air

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16 Renford Road (four)
Page 16