tolstAngeles - by
b ’àbhaist dhi fada na b ’fhaide na a’ mhòr-chuid againn a chaitheamh
san t-seòmar aice
’na cuimhne
vision
Uile Gu Lèir - by
Coimhead rithe.
Bheir do chridhe dhi.
Bheir do chluais dhi.
Dock Leaves - by
I’m sick of anticipating my own othering.
Thank god for places where people aren’t
Eye Chart - by
I still believe my eyes
can hold a solar system, catch all the lights,
deliver to the doctor alphabets
as small as atoms.
From Macbeth - by
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
/ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
/ I have thee…
From the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh - by
My only talent lay in these.
/ My father rubbed his hands together,
/ stared as though their whorls held codes
/ of thirty years obstetric…