panis angelicus
acoustic purity
in a private chapel
nuns’ disearthed voices
fade away
to the noise of the road
where schoolgirls commune
around a bus stop
and faith and hope
lean into cloistered
talk on the way up to
the suburbs
fit panis hominum
——————————————-
where would the evening star
be
without the edge of city roofs
or an unlit road
in the middle of nowhere
————————
on the long terraced row
eternity was confirmed
by the blue neon strip
above the chemist’s shop
but look the other way and
a light from the bakery
meant fresh bread
was coming
——————
crows slang the tops of winter trees
a black language
is born
it jabs the wide jagged
space
down in the big yard
someone is sawing logs
thinking
sure if I fill this here barrow
we’ll be laughing tonight
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