FROM THE SPECKLED THROAT OF THE THRUSH
Geoff Sawers
Mice are just wingless bats.
Remember us laughing, running through the rain
one step in front of the Police, for a while
just useless alley cats
finding sermons in bones, and food in every
bin.
At the end of a decade
I made my own,
in which I began to live
I still have a lock of her hair
wound tight around my neck.