TUESDAY 18
In the wing of a
dark blue car, a patch of sky
is a fish, a ghost.
WEDNESDAY 19
Once I couldn’t look
at the needle, now I watch
her coax out the blood.
THURSDAY 20
Another day, a
different needle, a bruise on
my less favoured arm.
FRIDAY 21
A still point of the
year, white nights all the way from
here to my birthday.
SATURDAY 22
A sparrow, newly
fledged, shivers its wings under
the cage full of nuts.
SUNDAY 23
Two mangy pigs called
Pedro and Alice bring flies
with them to the fence.
MONDAY 24
Today the hill is
almost too much. Dried mango
and apricots help.
Seventeen 