An Inland Scrape of Sea
keep eyes escaping
chasing bunting indigo O O
no tremolo of palate praise tongues
or cord stain in the throat can hunt
so well as wind song the body roots
cannot catch the curve of earth
shivering away from wings
can hold nothing inside the stone
wall when it flings direction
down the field's loosed plaits
of weedy knives to perch
blue north bird or is it wound