Moot and Pixie, a romance
Moot and Pixie, amorous
at Athenree, their names
inscribed freshly
on trig and gate and upended
dinghy. Moot recumbent
stares down
the buried village
of his belly,
commences his
breathless balladry: ‘It is
as if a small tree
has fallen upon me.’
And the grasses sang
as grasses can,
‘Nearer, my god, to thee.’