DAVID CHURCH
In Spite of it All
There is no needle
long enough
to reach my soul
to make it
Sleep
No wine so strong
to flow so deep
to dull
Nothing
Not even lies
to placebo
such unrest.
But still I rise each day
The plants need water
and the animals must be fed
Mimi
She bled early in life
Father broke her
with his sword
And she learned early
How pain follows pain
Father taught with heavy hands
When old enough to hunt alone
She strayed
Sharpened her claws
on rough pavement
Those reaching to stroke her
Beware
February Night
Notheast snow falling
Fierce...in the wind
Chimneys shooting wood smoke
Barndoor creaking on
rusty hinge
Chimes Clink Clinking
Blackberry Brandy
smooth as flesh
Adding taste to the stillness
Volume 8 Index