Sarah St Vincent Welch # when

when

have you noticed when writing

when imagined, it happens

did we sense it coming

sound image and line

shape of words

ominous, then

orgasmic

here

here

hard to

find a next

moment, name it

anticipation, waiting

stories all shaped against  

our living, it seems immature

to want, among whorls, horizons

call it time, though it makes less sense

even if we feel so much, to decay

rather than grow, the mind

seems geared to more

surprised at less

a luxury yes

memory
going