No more routinely ruptured mornings –
Quite a happy prospect!
‘…Nora seemed dead on leaving.’
Meaning Wot?
Everyone is blessed: half-dressed.
Trussed and preyed on that one for another day.
Tricateurs with Secateurs;
Kiss my anus, Janus;
Facebook guttersnipes,
fishwives swimming in shirk infested waters.
We do not do blood.
Dog day lies
undisturbed
by passers-by,
thick fur treacle
sweat insists upon
cold cider –
The menthol cheroot cure
Succours
Absolution
Rain, sultry rain.
Opaque grapes,
leaden sky fruit,
burst on copious,
oil dark
plush olive,
swooning,
spaded,
luscious leaves.
Three chirrup
kaleidoscope toucans
tenderly engage
a dopey puffin then
hunker down within
the livid dense canopy
to share a light
repast of slender wafers
over a convivial round
of knock out whist.
Tuesdays,
no matter the weather,
is Housey-Housey,
a rainforest favourite
throughout the ages.
Beastlings from yards
Around always
Attend
Grimbeau 