A clock
...ticks.

A vase
reflects upon itself

in an enormous ornate
gilt mirror

admires
her own flowers

& how they are
arranged.

A fire
spits sparks

sending shadows
scuttling up walls.

A coal scuttle
is either half empty/half full.

A clock
strikes nine
&... chimes

slightly ahead of
the real time.

.A picture
quaint & antique

hangs slightly askew
against the horrid

wall paper
& its unattractive roses.

A record
(an old shellac 78)    

has found a scratch
&  keeps returning to it

picking at the musical phrase
like a scab.

Caruso’s... got...  got... hiccups.

One mirror
gazes into the face
of another mirror.

Both enamoured
of the other

seeing only
themselves.

An un-drunk cup of tea
cools steadily

leaving a thin skin
on top.

A sugar lump
has come to rest

on a small
Turkish carpet

depicting
the delights of Paradise.

A moth falls madly in love
with an old flame

but it soon fizzles
out.

The only thing living
in this room

is an old tattered tortoiseshell
cat asleep

by her master’s
stockinged feet

so deep
she hasn’t even heard



Death
enter
&
leave.


A clock
...ticks.