“Love” Poems For Kathy Number Sixteen


These days are moon-milk or magnificent fire,

fronds of furious flowers,

but none grows.

Winter is here

with the dying light, the early dusk

and a sparrowless morning that neither knows

chorusing birds nor dew:-

though through

cold-closed, and pinch-shut, eyes, curtains

show an extravagant blue this morning

while evening, plumped up by a few giddy stars,

gives up –

and ghosts of pale lights withdraw,

leaving a tinder-sky, black through.

(from “”Love” Poems For Kathy / Green. Laced. Leaves”)

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Written by Jonathan Finch

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