Beth Woodcome


We hurry to pack, aware That far away, someone Is trying to starve us. Let's be honest, Carry our little altars In our arms and go home To our families to say: Two, and you are not one of them. Who can know how I ever made it to you. A boat meets us on the bank And as we head down river, Behind us our hotel is glowing, Conceiving. Two, like no Acquaintance you've ever made. We broke into each other And halted every law. I don't know who we are, but Two, and the records are growing. Two, and I'm not lying.

A Fifth Season Discovered

Reached only by the undiscovered. Light that has no source, And has no carriage. All who descend alone leave behind their worship. Here, Come as somnolent as you want, and as equine. Drape yourself across the fields, Slowly clean yourself in the ripe light. If you want to stay.