Two poems, one in verse, one in prose

Self-Portraits in Sneeze Glass

On a dinosaur hunt, tree roots wrenched up are the arcane script of a badger cult.
We had better turn away before we are drawn into their sett.

Sprouting leeks in yoga poses are the eyes of needles in the dirt, I tell him
Stacked clouds are happened rain longing to recur, more sour with each fall.

A magpie lifts from the bent stone wall, coughs-up and the spring-sky swallows. My child
In pyjamas and wellington boots, finds clandestine biscuits wrapped in blue foil.

He licks pink icing, flinches from a bee. Pine needles gyre downstream, get caught
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