Yard

JOSEPHINE MILES

YARD

Persons among the flapping clothes

Are flapping clothes,

Elevated by the wind aloft as if

Among branches they burgeon far beyond

The roots of carrots in the growing ground.

Grub later, says the rosy dress

Windfull, billowing among skirts,

Jeans, socks, now reach up,

Be a balloon airborne, a full flower

On the leafy line.

Parts from this concourse then the flapping elder,

Smoothing her dress

Away from the happy dress,

To pace the root row, where the prospects

Cast their shadows on the fallen ground.

THREE STAGES

When a city undergoes disaster, it moves as a mass