Cattle in the high reaches moaned.
Purpling stillness listened.
Bolting downslope, their bells
faint as those in chapel,
the herd rolled for the bridge.
She flailed with cupped hands, ordering
the little one to sing
and bail with a picnic spoon.
Farmers in market dorries
pumped on poles and wedged
into the hewn oak arches
of the unshakable span.
Cloud bellied and broke
into bright jags above
matronly hips and cellos
swaying the railing, prows
nosing under, the bolted
lacework of the trusses
soggily giving way.
She chanted to herself
then spoke it to the empty
landing,
I didn 't steal
the boat, I didn 't steal it.
Creamy froth over chocolate
worked in the matchstick narrows
a hypnotized dispersal
of heads, humps, apples.
She yoked the tie-up
around a brass clew, watching
its crown swell in the sun
just then returning, bead
bulging on the lettuce
in a drenched colander.
Vast urgency gathered
in her throat, helpless
