my granddaughter kisses my forehead then pipes ode to joy
calming herself before sleep
the grey shrike shrills its coloratura from the bush I pass
the parquetry squeaks
there's a sound like lips being opened under pressure
merely the thought of a ukulele
prompts
a snare drum off stage
its sparkly tin snippery like jacket quotes quid pro quo or
heard down the passage of time
shouts for the pretender's
head on the block or his butt on the throne
a death avoidance scheme
sanctioned by parliament
blessed by the pope
impresarios will announce it
in triplicate
remember the typewriter
with which you copied poems for friends
remember the reproductions of Goya, Millaise
in the encyclopaedia
that seductive grey
you traced
and left impressions of pencil lines on high clay content
paper
that open book smell removes me to childhood
when we played
till stars came out
and the mother rang from a kitchen window
for us to come in
are you obedient
to the bell or the voice?
I was
then