her mother rattled
their fig tree
sobbing
as she strove
making
comic little jumps
huge rouge
scalds
zinc annulled
nettle sting
no dock leaves
rapacious rabbit
watery cranberry juice
four plump figs.
The sky went purple.
She was on her own
from here on in.
On the lawn, undone,
watching silver radio,
listening to brazen daisies cackle,
Kali, crouched on her fold-up canvass throne,
above her subjects clamouring for crumbs,
sibilates: ‘Am I loathsome tonight?’
Post pinball full English:
Bratwurst, sautéed tatties, eggs
Fried smoked bacon slices
Baked beans and love apples.
There was also buttered toast
Father, son, and holy ghost.
We are Minotaur
In our labyrinths
All sublime
All divine
Get this thrill
Be no martyr
No Sidhartha
Spill no beans
Midsommer
Green scene
Thunder peel
Grimbeau 