Zena = second order poems from here down to A

I want to be free, says my lover from on high, no fire or blue sea, between her and the coast. she looks at the sky, coughs her cigarette throat, an island catching lee, searching horizons that're bright, she knows what it means, wind threads over the boat, unkind and sheds no light, if they'll find us afloat, she stands no scrutiny, God knows if she's right, a short step to certainty, but can't you please see, in the strange lantern light, ballast carried for sympathy, gets lost at night. do they wish upon us death, recognize what's above ? like a match stick on a sofa their faces to the wind in this space a firefly, a dingy bell drop cellar what messes with your head, they laugh, the dopes, do they think of us as hurt, do they wish upon us death, recognize what's above ? with the herring gulls alone, their faces to the wind give me just one more time. it reaches inside you again worms of the cemetery quarantine, they party every night, scenes down every lane, skim the lake with stones, each Sunday we know, when sunlight lifts the Poppies, we don't check the Escrow, or make promissory notes, far more than any keep, birds thrum their tune, she pulls at my traces, the moon is her nosegay it haunts her face, other shipwreck look for signs