ANNE SHAW

 


SONG

 

Awake now
in the freakish rain.
To this, your intricate
falling. Radiant, aloof.

Set loose the street
from its axis. Release the frozen
faces from their frames.

How we shall
be sharpened
keens. How

we shall be gifted:
to divide.

Still, I lug
my sodden body
to your door. Braved

with reliquary
light. Gloved

before the greenish
twinge of sky.



TYPO 14