Ancestral
like a lark call above the dark meadows of sleep
ANCESTRAL Far up and off behind my mother’s voice, my mother's mother's voice, like a lark call above the dark meadows of sleep, a high up pure and sudden annunciation, a strain she'd carried all along and me caught in the song, slipping off to other voices, my father's, father's, father's work in the fields over Hartshead,…
