July 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
Through the graveyard;
They’re all here
Ewan knew his tools, but I didn’t know him well,
Bill worked his garden, but I didn’t know him well,
Jane had a daughter, but she didn’t know her well.
and I don’t know where they fell.
Lowered into the ground
Ending in a gentle thud.
Over the road we reach the Hoo
Long strip of asphalt
Folded over arches of a lover’s back
And air crisp like lover’s bite
The Hunting Party is just in sight.
Tut. Tut. Tut.
Green coats and wives with tea,
beaters hold the dogs
and release in one, two, three.
The Cottage at Hoo End.