for Jan Carson

If you ignore an ant colony

for long enough

you don’t think to ask

how they grew so small.

*

The grass sounds

differently here.

*

All those songs my mother learnt.

I love you.

*

A fire burns tall on the hill

from the hill a boy falls high

the grass watches burning

a ma digs up the hill trying

to find her wee boy burning.

*

I wake from a dream where

I ignored a street, muraled

and needful. My face all

tattooed with red-pen griffonage.

*

All fathers are fathers until the smell

of sealed rubber makes them weep.

*

There are so many poems from

here. Each one an attempt

at benediction.

*

May you turn the page of thon book

before it’s too late: the evening away.