21.i.22
750
3.21
things of my father, things of my mother
the furniture
and a dream of the bush
big windows
ferry love
flesh and lovebeam too
the cough, the ache, the rotting teeth
the kiss annointing forehead
all the unwitting
of thinnest air
puns and whims of word
laquerware
box of sacred things
grab a chance with both hands
breeze up
from the harbour
some
admiration on the wall
from one and from the other
each made of mirrors stretching back
to fame and largely legend
the fountain pen missing its cap
books, the spilling shelves
born to begin with
so that I might be
tree to stand under
conversation in my head
their love
for which no thanks may suffice
the wit to say
‘never asked to be’
(I know it’s no defence)
my eyes and clapped on to
three wise monkeys on my shelf
the ivory ship of gods
some heart song here there
someone chopped grey snakes in half
the garden got away
and I can spell
I tie my shoes
wee glass of wine
the last cigar
things still kept in a tin
I am illegible now
watch me chew gum, walk
how one empty house fills up another
there’s everything I never had time for
now they’re here with me
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