Poetry Corner: ONE MORE TURN
BEN FAIRLIGHT
Now that our sun softens its glare
To smile among shape-shifting starling clouds
As jackdaws call in startled crowds
That gift a fifth dimension to the tainted air,
Our scraping footprints knead each leaf
To know its beauty unbonded,
While we cling to our dough, our booty bagged,
To save us all from winter grief;
We sidle the rim of this pan of clay
And mostly sniff the other way
To spite our black hole’s no escape
Wringing the abyss with an echo now hoarse:
How many seasons more of earth rape
Will those high-court judges grant us?
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