Left like cut-off kites, in ground surrounded swirls of blooded barb wire endings.
Slumber-in-Somme
Bonnie Goodfellow
| I. | From blue gum heat to sea of ice-ground graves: wash’d souls left in furrowed holes |
| II. | Frayed at the edges. Aimed, framed at the heart, from the start, to grave’s end. |
| III. | KnitArt or WordArt? What came first? The knitting or the verse? Do we care? |