Ashes to Ashes

In the perjury of
last year’s
unfulfilled Lenten sacrifices
the priest’s freehand cross
becomes the smudge
of a pointed finger
this year
I
will
purge.

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Storms 2014

Rivers are weaving threads

across the sandbag wefted land

and patchwork fields

drown with new cloth.

Hedges poke up their heads –

markers for where roads

have dived below

inland seas.

Sheep, full bellied with twins,

huddle in island barns

as freshwater tides

graze their pasture.

Houses first-footed by water

as wavelets rap the doors

with unrelenting gusto.

Tears flow from kitchen,

parlour and refuge while

slicks of sewage sweep

the streets.

Unyielding winds

gather loose tiles

as ammunition

and bomb and blast

in a hubbub of ceaseless attack.

Daily the forecast fails

to bring the besieged relief.

This is the invasion.