Sunlight on us, tempest tossed,
disheveled in the quietude

A toaster’s clunk gives cause to move,
routine plates, butter,
knives are passed

The rasp as blackened slices scrape
mocks hollow the request
to leave the dial alone

Us as cracked pots,
with a possibility to be fixed
as fine and flawed

The geology of our clay:
dirt will behave as dirt,
rare earth as rare earth

With time it transmutes
to something new,
shot with old veins when fired

The new *** fragile,
prone to drops and knocks,
desperate to hold known water

Edged laughter of teachers,
bone-tired from the joy-slog weeks passed,
speaks of an adult relief,
R and R for bruised hearts and knocked heads

Coming off the front line,
hard fought thought-inches precariously gained,
we sit in living room street cafes,
flowing vin du table,
inhaling rest like Gauloise

The distant classroom thud and rumble never fully fades,
echoed in sandbags of intelligence to be pored over
deciphered, summarised in triplicate,
for later summits

But it will wait

For now, we’ll catch a show, an eye,
maybe even a lie of peace,
for one duvet-warm morning

Soon, we’ll be back to inspecting boots,
buttons, buckles, sharpened pens ready,
waiting for the whistle

A bold and fattened fecundity
speaking truths to the dwindling light,
securing a covenant, a pledge,
as the molasses dark flows inevitable

The cold weaves it thick
so limbs and thoughts are held
and insidious suggestions have free reign

The hedgerows offer so that spring remembers:
after marshalling reserves, it must return

I forget the interstitial blips,
boiled egg dinners,
weak cups of tea,
the tight cost-benefit chats
where eyes don’t meet

I remember certain things,
not necessarily in the order they came
but in vermillion shocks
and ****** afterglows
as heartbeats slowed back down

Friday:
faux finish line it may be,
but colour me happy
as my knackered toe to tip
crosses it

I heard that Dr Johnny Bananas
signed off on a letter on herd immunity
and *******, I’m in

Last seen fleeing a beat up
Chunking Mansion room
after a deal for python skins
(needed for his surefast oil) went bad,
his mad streak nearly had him

This was after that narrow squeak in Singapore, when peddling stay hard pills to rotten expats got dicey, as they realised his concoction
was more talc than tungsten
and some Salakau took a machete interest

So the enigmatic Dr B has resurfaced
in Great Barrington, Mass.
to add his voice to the Ivy League Profs, homeopaths and khoomii singers’
hard nosed exhortations
to stop worrying and love the fever,
persistent cough,
anosmia

If life has taught us anything
it’s that when Dr Johnny B spins
fresh from Whitehall or White House
with advice for living well,
you can take that to the offshore bank.
I’m sold