I  commenced battle

and ended it swiftly

complicit in love's long game.

Rows of cups and saucers

and chipped face of cheese-board

dropped-heavy; the sink a salad bowl

of porcelain bones crunched

crazed; fuzz-hard green wires

absorbing like a forest roof.

 

I've hollowed out this morning

with a pen knife, stuck a wad

of shut-eye and shame

inside with the smelling salts.

Static waves goodbye from the corner-box;

we're all out for the outing

and paints packed for pottering

digging out chapter and verse

from the drowning kitchen garden.

 

In the wood, in double time, the darts

and saucers now thunder quiet.

I walk without suction, vexed no

more with ankle wading, wiping

the walk on stone-jut, moss-pelt.

I've no more reason to feel poked up

or laid out. The weekend

has run clear, saturating the Earth;

the day unfolds flowers at my feet.