Wind Quartets
T. Rex
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The wind quartet howls softly
My jeep hand strokes her necklace
Crusted, crammed with old Etruscan gold
Her bird head torn with summer
Inspects a Spartan runner
Robbing time a chosen Prince of Speed
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My goblet drenched with Autumn
Tears for my dead cat Ena
Silver Surfer sorcerer of spray
She headed deep in chartreuse
A falcon glimpse of white teeth
Separated by lace cinnamon folds
We hid and rid in hansom
Cab wrenched from lost Byzantium