Raworth, Collected Poems

good eve­ning, warmth, here i am again
enti­ced by the pre­sence of light
i’m obvious­ly here and all your pre­tence
of acci­dent just makes me love you
(i see through you, or not quite) love you
control has pushed my head convex – or is concaine ?
chance that gurgles like a picket fence
bru­shed by a sau­sage of my wate­ry sight