Grimbeau

Sid crows, demi-dawn, cool night breeze folds,

falls from fan.

Remnants remain: crusted, polythene grass;

stale tobacco;

grand damned poems;

the truce is over, the murder is resumed.

Back to where it all began, square one squared,

one more dance, duplicated dalliance.

So the day is done. The same old same old

Step out hand in hand in

Vellum gloves