the  ashes of DH Lawrence

secret maps

in Inverness in 1970s

‘cycling my bike home from the station’

filled with live ants

women and stallions

ridiculous, glorious connection

burning and impatient fury

with birdsong

left the poem behind it

a holy place

freely available

the pile was going to topple


hot dinners

a woman, a girl

she was cruel

like cows into a garden