Daniel Osborne

Once emerald leaféd wilds in graphite aged

In bloom again on someone else's page

But for me these four corners are a cage

At tentacles' full stretch in darkness blink

I eye the space 'tween murk and sepia ink

My thoughts flash ruby red to white to pink

Would I have etched in stone or driftéd wood

The musings of my ice age brain? I should

Very much like to think that yes I would

But you, you've something I lack eye to hand

In me that road traverses barren land

My lines are jogged with nerve and clogged with sand

In your hands would the bone and antler sing

A melancholy form and likeness bring

A melody, time's notes eternal string'd