by Jo Langdon

 

 

 

First   there is a mountain-shouldered town   

lit with falling snow,   and through it runs a beer-named street   

 

and on it is a mustard-skinned house of three storeys  

and inside it a child   half-asleep    

 

Rabbits  she whispers   in a voice small and sudden

dreaming   perhaps   of pairs of velveteen ears.