Lori Covington

Crabapple Hearts

The courtyard wall in bevelled flints
wet-black branches weighted
clustered with crimson crabapple hearts
glowing, haloed, burning holes
in the dim vellum autumnal light

A passage of stones
moulded to the curving human step
rain gleaming dark from foot-worn hollows
rain enclosing
illumined hearts and reaching limbs
rain streaming down the flint-strewn walls

all this and a memory
your voice, soft as falling water
your voice, saying Oh

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