Grimbeau

Coming up for Noon:

Chicken & fish purchased by Poll.

No knobby-curse, no hobby-horse…

ham & eggs ate listening as…

big con speaks: poor as piss, full of shit.

After this, fearful prospects – complex phantom

horrors hidden behind the gun-ho noises

of the head boy’s gobhead, a quake

of vile thoughts sent me, suddenly weary,

back to the warmth of my duvet.

For better, Heaney’s Beowulf bolstered my warm bed and stark head

until half three: silent, dozing, sleeping,

perhaps dreaming,

phone calls were ignored. Then up to find the house empty and open,

closed and locked the cold back door.