Seem an I

Bedraggled angels blethered

across Eleven Acres

as belling from the bwoneyard

rangled round the archet

Her fingernails a-ripped

from hauling clay-filled fists

out of the river's edges

for pots with happy voices

Conzum-ed with twanketen

only eased by scratching

whisp-words slim as thistles

or sickly chicken whistles

Seem an I a childhood

of quartere'il and wormwood

of not-friends running nowhere

of vog a-veiling elsewhere

Till in the vaulted barn

queer-lit by dummet zun

she knew herself a vessel

fit for a different wordle

where footsteps must be lwone

and barefoot upon stones

the northwind's ever-host

giving edges to the ghosts

Seem an I a childhood

of quartere'il and wormwood

of not-friends running nowhere

of vog a-veiling elsewhere

of mother's voice not-calling

corrugated iron

of devil's birds and whiskey

of chilver hogs and fleecy

nuts I could not reapy

and nuts I could not reapy