Perfection B.C. (Before Cancer): SATURDAY, 1ST AUGUST Graceful necks of wilting gold, Dry grass sleeps upon the breeze; My daughters fine white hair, Like cotton thread, lifts, A cube of hissing morning Bleeding through us. In this field I invented summer When I was cotton like her, And from here all ensuing summers broke, Perfected … Continue reading Extract from a sequence by Greg Gilbert