Grimbeau

Mention of kedgeree, vindaloo, and

rotis spur me from my slumber of libraries,

edits, and re-writes: more painkillers

due soon, and more in process.

Waking dream…

Local pill-makers frantically

mixing and moulding in small manufactures

before the dark.

Soon night will fall and they must be

ready for the collection, or there will be

no money, and they will eat their

potatoes glum in worried,

tired, futile silence.

So, guilty as I naturally feel to be a burden,

it is good to know there is a purpose to my existence.

What would they do without me?

Perish the very thought, accept the claim:

every sod’s part of the main.