my pieces should have gone to post this morning
to give me any chance to win a prize
but now the rain worries at my window
and I have turned to stone and cannot rise
and the raindrops on the lattice sit
like silent choristers holding lights
knowing there is no one to sing to
and no day but only night
when we first came here
we could see fields
and a copse in the form
of an all embracing circle
now there is only the deep cleft
into which everything has collapsed
the earth swallows its own
in an all-consuming maw
and yawns
