The wind blows through the tops of the pine trees.
Sound of things     passing into the invisible.
Above     their endless     dark green constellation
the North Star turns     eternally,     invincible.

I was your slave, she said.
Where the obscure selves     cross     into the deep freeze.
On salvation road     through the valley of slivers.
& her voice     became silver     on the point of a sword.

Ding - dong
the dark wind     & the rain
(heart,     petalled     on a spine     of steel,     rose
once again

into the dark green constellation,     graven where
low broken lives might     find your heaven)

Henry Gould | Island Road 74
Contents | Mudlark No. 6