After the Bomb
2 June 2003
Vol. 3, No. 2
poetry
no more scritch-scratch, black bodies
through grout. No more
crumb-hunters, curry spice tracked…
Tress
2 June 2003
Vol. 3, No. 2
poetry
Through gold, a comb shimmers. Not the red
cock-comb of sureness, but here, a hen-comb,
a toothed darling.
