They were Wesleyan    she was Church    
after his father died (less dour)     she let him run wild  forawhile  
His father had   climbed up the mine shaft    and turning for home
therewas a motorcycle spoiled    at the foot of a       wind
that was only ever darkness      
there was punishment   of several sorts
it was a furniture van     sticks of a home burst on the road
this verse refers to      that verse    when we met in Keswick
they played    violins by ear  and called them fiddles   Irish Manx is different to Cumbrian

     Scots
He minded about things so destroyed photographs
in the front of Arabian Nights there had been   a coloured pencil drawing of her
soft hair
everything he did was complex   and tender and wrong like petals
smuggling     rain
there had been a child before  him    who had  lived a day
and she    she too had hurried her     dreams    through    every tilt of grieving