To Orslow first, where Horsa’s people work the land,

who, at our approach, stop with hoe and axe in hand

to watch from wooden walls, drawing with secret voice

and movement  their mud-bellied pigs and children close…

wanting from each straight incision her children’s limbs

and from each curve their soft heads and laughter.

With lizard-tongues and speckled suits

we’ll charm all triple-teated twigs,