ANNE BROOKE

Unhook the stars,
let the sky float down
and squeeze the dark clouds shut,
tear up your promises
in your stormy hand.

Measure the seas
into the mountains' deep hollow,
pluck the wild elms bare
and hush the blackbird's song
before it wakes the dawn.

In your stormy hand
tear up your promises
and squeeze the dark clouds shut,
let the sky float down,
unhook the stars.