Friday, 26 April 2013

23. Skittish

skittish, I try to listen to a pop song
eyes swollen and out of season

I have no patience for pop songs
the geraniums are all still parched

skittish, impossible to settle here
the blue-tits plot a barricade

I am willing to let them all take over
ripe chirrups marvelled on the floor

let's befriend the birds and beg
happiness like ruffled feathers

I keep on waving mine for subplots
skittish, ever-reaching for the door

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