Poets

for Maria Freij For years you hugged the coast, steering close to the sense of loss, sounding out the landfalls, the echoes

The house and yard dressed in a skin of ash. It was raining embers, the night air thronged with giddy petals that swirled

On Little Bourke Street it's the bewitching hour of winter dusk's last riffs playing long mauve shadows down the blocks,