The Crofton Road home team play football with the moon

They have no kit to speak of but compensate
with unshakeable belief they’ll ace the cup.

The moon is a Punch in the sky.

A boy is carrying a bruise.

And nobody is talking to either of them
about ordinary things.

These things I know,
and in knowing, can do . . .

You wrestle the car seat’s five-point harness,
scrabble for a foothold in the new life.

We Need to Talk about Shoes
 
The right shoes
for work, party, funeral.
 

Grandad keeps pigeons and canaries
 
in the same cage. He has never hurt me. He probably could . . .

That way a river crimps eddies in its skin
is this matter of my unreliable breath.

You’d come in the front door
and whistle, I’d be upstairs
and whistle back

      In My Last Phone Call Did I say it looks like rain? I meant the sky is black with a thirst only crying can quench, clouds smothering the hills. Did I say this was my home? It was a mistake. The walls are collapsing even as I paint myself into a...