Saturday, 9 March 2013


beggared on this taunted key
eyes, long emptied stark hollows of jaundice,
no longer reflect the encirclement of youthful steel

and, thus cowered beneath such plumb altiloquence,
she finds herself now wimpled in a creeping green
where her walls bleed a jealous neglect

fish flaked the fa├žade of dandruff drips
her autumnal fall into sorry stupor where
grumbling brickworks effloresce, vainglorious

not in tribute

for who could love her now?
those weeds grow long around her feet
as doleful duenna to her tawny disgrace

yet still we look

through the fog
through the trees
through the dearth of honey
bees to where
the dewdrops sit like
sugared spit upon the old
maid’s bristled lip

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