The Picture in Front

This one day a woman
sick of arranging cutlery and laundry
thought to wave a napkin in the air
hail the sky and be whisked

Away
(if only to the neighbouring town)

Finding herself in an empty café
she was caught staring outside
an anchor, centre of the town
Unfamiliar

But what a fine shape! and noble!
Her eyes stuck

Out came a pen and a glass of water
the napkin, too

So the anchor was drawn with it,
the differently coloured bridges
and differently coloured houses.

Flicking her hair in youthful artistry
(she imagined)

The woman stayed put in the town
a day, a month, a year.

Everyone there
lit candles and put music on before dinner.

Teabag afternoon

All in almond,
ceiling crumbs land on your cheek
 
A soft glance up
and a quick step to the right
 
His vacant chair is found
the jacket, you quietly touch
 
Grinning with peppermint mischief
slip away to the park.

The Current Moment


A small in pink and an old in blue

sky-blue, upside-down

follow the dog through the lane

 

I get moved along the table

with the arrival of more

this small in grey and the old in blue

 

This seat is colder and

the music is louder

away from the window, I can’t see

 

I ate before at the base of a monument:

people I never knew died

building a bridge I’ll never climb

 

Now I am tired

and will soon catch the train

having spent the morning

 

In search of pebbles and strangers,

both of which

I found.