In the failing light of the afternoonnLucy in the shade of the dogwood bloomsnYesterday the solace of a poison fishnTomorrow I'll be kissing on her blood red lipsnnNo one is the saviour they would like to benThe lovesong of the buzzard in the dogwood treenWith a train of horses laughing through the traffic linenAnd the cradle's unimaginative sense of timennSpringtime and the promise of an open fistnA tattoo of a flower on a broken wristnLucy tells me jokingly to wipe her brownWith a pocket map to heaven and the sun goes down