Winter 2007“For the past two years there’s been
a white chenille bedspread
caught up in a barbed wire fence
along the road to the quarry.
For a while it looked like a man
who had fallen asleep on a sofa,
sad bachelor uncle of a man,
the soft ball of his bald head fallen,
long thin arms stretched out
along the back and trembling.
But, today that was gone, torn away
by the wind, and there was no one
but me on the road. My heart
flapped like a rag in my ears.”