Night Shift

I was coiled in my toolbag, latched in my workhouse,

string at me, bars in me, lid dark

and sponge dry of breath: but I touched at the sack

and the knot ran loose, each bar

came plucked in my hand, the door off its hinge

reeled and fell to. I stood

in the alley, the night town above me, the air

was a hive of starfalls, hood

winking me loves, and the new moon old wifeslip

was come again, witfresh and quick:

I foresaw the sunk night of the year was to pale

and saprise to flood each stick

| and stalk of the world, and wondered what apple

of ill luck I'd bitten and kept

no keeper to thank. So I winked at the stars,

at twigs, at neighbors who slept

while the bridegroom came to the thighs of roots

. to transform knotlocks and badlands:

and turned where the doorway was open in lamplight,

and tools lay in wait for my hands.