It's Still Life

“I am cold, even though the heat of early summer is adequate. I am cold because I cannot find my heart.” – Sebastian Barry from “A Long, Long Way”
 

Long Dried Grass

There’s a black madness in the long grass.
I’d hoped for love. Or lust. But I’m just
a chilled fluid stagger for a stranger on
the wind. Skin-pricked ice. That flies.
Love has wings. Cold wings. It’ll leave you
stone crow cold. A sun-borne scythe upturning
love like shallow-rooted grass. I am brazen
madness, condemned in my own angry voice,
and love-lost in the depths of dried grass.

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