North Tawton

North Tawton

you called them”
—Ted Hughes, “Error,”
Birthday Letters

Staring out the window—
The sunken church & graveyard

The black slate roofs—
The inaccessible clouds above

The submarine trees—
Rooted deep in the labyrinth

Hedge row full of secrets—
Traffic on Market & Exeter

This is what I’ve chosen—
A rainy North Tawton day

And now a gone husband—
A graveyard, a wedding picture

His unseen bones down there—
Still undergoing the changes

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