by Craig Raine
A cabbage white:
A bluster at the edge of sight,
unbroken bronco,
its own mute rodeo,
a battle without issue.
*
White toilet tissue,
a single grey sheet, whole
in the lavatory bowl,
like ectoplasm.
*
No lightning in spasms.
Dark. But white rain,
smashed transparency:
contains
flash photography.
*
Is now electricity:
tiny bulbs, silver-white, shine
on the blue plastic washing line.
*
Dirty white, a pigeon tarred
and feathering the road.
*
New lambs
out on their limbs:
abrupt
little hiccoughs.
The twilight tone
of damp pumice stone.
*
Indifferent happiness writes
its different whites.
Last updated October 02, 2022