World Opens Briefly (3 poems)

ghost holiday

Briefly open the earth gate into your head dark,
 allow your kindly dead through the gate to be with
 you, the living, let them sup ale in their old pubs,
 if the places are not boarded up, demolished,

 allow them to enter their old homes. Their rooms left
 as they
 were when they died, or find their goods given to
 charity, sold, some kept, their homes lived in now

 by strangers, who chase them off, crash pots and pans too
 loud for the dead. So they wander streets as homeless,

 uncared, they find your home and photos of themselves,
 relieved that someone still treasures their memory.

 Soon, respite done, they return by the earth gate to
 your head dark, until their next holiday among
 the living, to see, again how time has moved on.

blessed are these sacred folk

who plough
 who prepare the earth
 who plough with a wide furrow to bring water from the river
 who plant seeds
 who trace the first ploughing, reploughing as first did not work
 who harrow
 who dig
 who weed
 who reap
 who carry the grain
 who store the grain
 who share the grain
 who share their good fortune with us, the dead

open the grain store between your thighs

world of
 dark in your underworld
 full of your dead ancestors
 warm food for the cold times
 riches kept snug
 allow a kiss
 allow a lick
 I should not let the dark out
 for long
 I shall plug it
 so after winter you can give birth to heat
 bring out small bawling heat to help

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