a hole in the clouds
noise in the well
 
half past Wednesday and ten to Friday
April has started but March hasn’t ended
 
the sun zigzags across the grass –
across last winter’s snow from a hundred years ago
 
we trample the chiaroscuro
the yard airs a few glissandos
 
yesterday was Tuesday and today is Tuesday
how will we survive a year of Tuesdays?
 
midafternoon revolves around the cat
and soon the oblationary brings a spectrohelioscope
 
             we’re clinging to a yoyo
a glissando withers in the yard
 
I sleep with Gerry in the desert
on last summer’s sand from a hundred years ago