Grimbeau

Phone kaputt, foot stingling, grey skies. mid November, poppies out
toast and marmite, neuronal go slow, where’s the nurse. changed pants

pulled down the wall, no hard feelings, let bygones be bygones. forgave
and forgot; appeal to greed; feed false appetites; chew over the fat over

the weather to come when the water cascades down the Appenines
hit twelve after struggling hard rawfooted through Bad Toe Gulch,

ruffled jackdaw shares with me acute consternation at the heavy frost
settling on the chocolate slates on the empty house in Lima

brackish water slakes mad thirst, one twenty in the shed, chronic
overcrowding I say when pressed and later consult a random saviour
with magenta eyes