Paula Bohince

The sea tunnels forward as a hymnwith nothing in itbut alleluia,word lifted and lowered over eleven notesas though the sound...

Through lashes,saw the weave of the crocusblowing backwards, and in this motionrecognized my life,the full sadness of existence,but wanted it still:...

Now there is only the heart—oiled and rosyas a hoof—and within its wooded wallslives an evergreen:on each bough, the jeweled gestures...