April 2019 Collage Poem: Cleaning the House
Man Ray’s aggravated coffee sneaked
A glance at the new frontier
Thumbs up, India’s best lemonade,
Top of the pops!
An organised death takes Aunt beyond black
Rehydrate the astronaut. The sun approaches.
Whilst cleaning, it’s important to scrub
Behind the fridge.
Catacombs holding rooms in mind of carefully
Packed past chapters.
A bank, some bleach, a body and a
Torn spacesuit on the Northern Line.
A new clean day of thoughts dense with love
People, parties, still raging into the last dawn
But this is not the rehearsal
Purple tureens and vicars
Remind me of someone I know
Learning to keep your trap shut
Blowing a circuit wondering how naughty
Nigel’s poem would be
But what do the dead bodies go in?
In the madness of summer
High on human contact
From Golden Gate to Formby Beach
Banker Aunty settles her accounts,
Ticks off her own funeral-to-do-list
Golden Gate was built from a speckle
Of dust. Rich… yet clouded throth!