oh fey reticulate
on you walk from my doors
and hand away my beret
over your noiseless wake
a dismissive chortle
have you heard the announcements on tuesdays?
fight for my silent banter, Siren
is this our talking or
me when you've entered my air space
light beacon flash at crown
there circled round the june pole
on the last day of may
as sprites watched on
remembering verdent glen
choice now but to ignore
the thirty six moons of our acquaintance
how many foreign oils have plunged your soil
how many nights have not been mine
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