across the fly screen
insects & I
chase the breeze
as the big day shrinks
the cool is coming on
the book is sitting there,
its blue cover
clashing
with the tea towel's orange,
stranded
they've had their
heydays,
the fading teatowel,
the book of poems
translated
& re-translated
an aesthetics of the surface
sliding towards
evening, only one language
spoken here
fructose to coma -
undissolved granules
spuming
in a grubby glass
on the table top
the poems say
more
than I want them to,
no clarity really, can't decide
which way to read them
everything left
as it is,
the fridge compressor
gurgles
Pam Brown - from Missing up (Vagabond Press 2015)
