Katie Ford

When I scarcely know what error of mind
made all brick, stucco, ravine, ale, and song fail
and all floorboards flee except 

I once believed in heavenly clarity—
do you know how good it feels to sing
of certainty, the wild apricot

Admit coming upon the fallen horse at evening,
now asleep but withered, now reducing as you near, now

If we are at war let the orchards show it,
let the pear and fig fall prior to their time,
let the radios die
and the hounds freeze over their meat.