Floating like a feather
like a single grain in the sea
grateful despite being alive

craving grace as I crave evening
cradling rage as I cradle no vicar
I think I might just be a clock

& juju power in a terrible century
a needle & the way to plunge it in
dancing through a meadow away

                          *

floating like singular rage
unlike twenty sheaves of feathers
like a vicar alive & dancing anyway

craving this terrible century
and every clock cradled in the sea
I think I’ll always be the needle

grateful for my grain & juju power
and all the ways to plunge into it
in this meadow just for an evening