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Poem of the Month - January 2004
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Cellar
from Summer Grass

It's warm here        domestic
waterworks gurgle

the rusty-hearted furnace throbs
slow beats
foetal comfort

there's a cidery sweetness
of barrel apples rotting
sacs of potatoes
sprouting in darkness

and beyond the lozenge window
that frames a plunge of sky
a new moon now

it climbs

as quietly      the night
lets fall
                a lid

Lord Jesus

am I
trapped
or hid



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