from 'Horizon & Back' (2005)
At night, he navigates abandoned mine fields,
deftly picks his way over uneven ground
to find escape in her company.
Months move only for the after hours:
a rustle of paper thin as sheets,
tea brewed socializing.
The day he didn't come
the sky sat empty of its moon,
the arid face of the countryside grown damp & heavy.
Now she clutches threads
of their last meal together
while newsprint spells a picture
of tangled limbs scattered
on a ground left fallow,
his face a crimson mask.
She volunteers to erase
the dull ache he willed her.
The boxes all ticked,
her grief is silent
as the bomb she promises to wear
under her coat.
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Excerpts 
