All along the skyline, cranes
quiet above rooftops
Betrayal begins at home, a fine-boned fledgling,
blown-in through your window, heart a-shiver.
‘Promise me leaf-blowers will cut out first,
Spinning in sparkless Catherine Wheels
Then dying like blue-bottles.’
Not even the owls had eyes hollower
than mine after the dark had emptied them.
He slipped out in the intermission with binoculars to gaze at the stars for inspiration.
For a good half hour this morning, from five
till the mobile’s ringtone woke me in a sweat,
I was young again and Mammy was alive.
The kumquat tree you brought for me
from Florida, it likes the sun, you said,
so I found a place outside
The room is empty apart from the plants,
the people and all of the furniture.