Night Grammar

A night so cold that the grass uprooted trees.

Do you remember? The night

we ate the cold and marigold fire flew in.

Clothes hung in a dark garden:

fish stolen in the sloe-black depths of ponds

bare walls and passiflora fierce and purple against the gloom.

Remember how light skimmed the window sill and

though nimble fingered found itself hymned away

by the dark earth of our sleep?

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