Alpine Spring

The scythe cuts / the windows of that house are lit / the first grass / who is missing this night? / the swallows arrive / the topmost branches of the plum trees / all are missing / are points of needles’ eyes / acupunctures of blossom / a thousand kilometres south in that house / the wounded have no anaesthetics / the swallows go / the men prepare to die / between the telephone wires / the spring grass falls / the windows are black / we should mourn / there should be many plums this year / the new leaves / towns besieged / tiny as the darling fingernails / of a baby whose mother has been raped then shot / acupunctures of white blossom / and the wooden planks of the barn / where the swallows nest / and the same wood as the cross / I’m scything the spring grass / on which Christ dies / amidst sunlit blossoms agape / at the blue sky.