(What a Trojan horse) 
thought Matrigupta, 
rewarded for his verse 

I don’t have to tell you. The small birds—
red and black finches, khaki banana quits—
invaded our bungalow, snatched crumbs, devoured

There is snow on Vesuvius
And the barometer has dropped to one.
Winter again and Spring suspended

It is
so snug—
the skin

It was quixotic to think
the cold grey North Atlantic
might be survived in a jam jar boat.

Eventually the
most accident-prone
or war-weary

Yellow is the most
primary of the colors,
owing nothing to any