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Evidence Burning                                                          ( published in Barrow Street )

        how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
                 – GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

Overhead a raven circles,
drawn from the forest by low tide.

Not a majestic falcon
caught in a rush of air,

just a dirty pond, a low flying crow.

Twenty-four when he tossed
every poem into the fire—

evidence burning in a church hearth.

He claimed it was for God,
this slaughter of the innocents.

That night, words leapt into smoke
and he gave himself to faith.

But I need to write myself onto the page,
press against another man's flesh

until our bodies are seared together,
to document our lives.

I follow the raven down the shore;
sand dollars, driftwood and kelp

all return to the sway of the sea.