The apples are on the corner of spoiled

softening to a spring step pulpy,

Bread bag is open

(You forgot to close it)

and the bread a nursery green.


I found the tea,

made a cup

and settled to the



All these things ends

like a biblical phrase,

straight from the lines.


I haven’t grown up.

I’m cold now after tea,

and curl up like the moon

on the sofa.


7 Oct 08


Thinking of Night