an immeasurable weight
the tear drop falls
everything there is
the anticipation
patting a dog
a travel between lick or bite
fifty years ago I bought the album
with the song of the age I’ll be
this summer Christmas
working on my headstone
an abstract of heart on a sleeve
history is truancy
but when my grandfather
was laid out by nanna
in his one occasion suit
she grabbed my wrist laughing
don’t lick knives you’ll lose a tongue
my uncle that wake
chased us through the house
every room a chatelaine
put us in a hessian bag
an odour of dead fox and ragwort
then we sang battle hymn of the marines
a pianola with woozy recipes
all made of knobbly knees
run rabbit run rabbit run run run
Published in Outlaw Poetry December 2017
James Walton Poetry 