they say it is too cold there. cold as icebergs

none came the year the storm broke, breached
the shingle bank

decisions were made
i hear
to not repair
now there is salt marsh where samphire grows

some eat it
i don’t

i like turkey island

i ask to see the lace ups,

yellow will be nice

we only have winter shoes with laces

she replied

which i have always called

lace ups

sea salt

you come as hungry

wild ones

ignore the beans

until mixed with dry dust as protein

you start as picky

then

gobble up

with hunger

wild ones

not around or about here this morning

often gone for days

look

i never find

she comes as she likes

she comes in 11.15 when due at 11.00

placed

in the basket

steps out again

to be chased

&

captured

they do not mind the lateness of her arrival

hengwrt

don’t look at the sparks without a mask

he said

at the garage

food for thought

mouse

i wanted to suggest that they do not argue

it is nothing that matters

not death or life threats

not fire nor flood

just driving

no one is hurt

back home he made the gate

from branches

we are mostly quiet

here

some mornings while drifting

i see the writing in my head

come patterned, neat lines balancing

dancing with the rain

at the window

on waking

yesterday we remembered blancmange

and jelly, ideal milk and water

pineapple that split cream

food that touched

yesterday we remembered our granmas

our mothers

bundles of cotton with colours

required for mending always

yesterday she explained to sew

the four holes in synchronicity

tight

on linen

yesterday the words came easily with labels

and names

today on brightening

forget

didn’t get the top for likes

even shares

yet i enjoyed my day

got rid of the chair i never liked

a compromise

wrangled it out through narrow doors

into the shed where i cover it solemnly

a white sheet is apt

the colour

can heal my soul

those bits that are left

i shall gather the rest together

reorganise these books

be busy

so that

i do not

think of them huddled there together