In the sunken duress
of our fathers’ joy

Pin up the garden rage
for a display of bellicose roses

cheat the sin
of quickened indifference

and bask under too much covers
where your hiding composes
erubescent dissolving memories

• Not previously published. Written after a dry spell of not being able to write anything for a few weeks. To be featured in forthcoming collection that has gone by too many tentative titles to be worth mentioning.