We found her in the shadow of the gas drum; a pleat of otherness pinched from her dominion …

I carry the owls with me deep in my pocket or tucked in the cup of my bra …

Little milk flower trembling in the first light barely a cotton skirt its ragged hem almost elegant -

A collared bird is drinking - it bows to the river, water wets its crop …

They are nailing him into the wood And I don’t know what to do …

Sometimes when we make love near the window I can almost feel them waiting in the corners …

Little milk flower trembling in the first light barely a cotton skirt its ragged hem almost elegant -

Sleeping, or not crying, life-size newborn cast from the artist’s daughter, six days old.