Ars Poetica
The day is set to sun,
So let’s clamp down our teeth ‘til
Red strawberries our chins.
We ate porridge on the steps.
The camellia bush was a lion that tickled your legs with its whiskers, so
I resolved to chop back, or prune, or whatever you do to lions.
You blew the steam off your bowl.
I smelled the brown sugar melted into mine,
And we danced to the far-off breakfast news.
We were the slipping by of fleeting things.
The clouds whisked over,
So in bed we stayed eating pork from a bucket
Bought at no particular seaside.
I flew a kite with your hairdryer
And we laughed and laughed and
Laughed until the ribbons fell off,
It plunged to the bed,
Created a trench.
Everyone needs a tin roof to listen to the rain under, you said.
That made me lower and raise my eyebrows so they flew off my face,
Fluttered clean away to join other lost eyebrows,
Build a nest at a barber’s,
Have little eyelashes,
Thousands of the things,
That would be measured in mascara and
Make life miserable.
I imagined that you rolled your eyes
On the edge of this vast plain,
And I saw that
I was quite alone.
