By | 1 May 2021

In the vigilant years, when the sunset rises to nothing
you see entirely what the screen sees,
completely at one with that

and don’t have to suffer.
To persist through autumn.
Keep pruning the herbs, like a Benedictine monk:

resentment of weeds – not what they are but over-abundant
in a ‘Godless’ fashion.

Work, read, pray, but mostly read
when you don’t need to skim
desiccated leaves off the pool cover.

Distiller of charms, you become
an expert on cisterns.
It’s what the website doesn’t mention that counts.

I too have fixed shoes, baked roti, and
advise my brother on the sins of idleness.
He likes a game of cards, a smoko at lunchbreak.

Remind yourself that
succulents love the rain,
that French recycling bins are a logical system

– bottles here, rustic nostalgia there.
the State promises no hassle.

OK, old policies have been revoked, though
they didn’t waste a letter to warn you.

Here the gap between love and hate
is infinitesimal.

I still miss the certainty I was,
A door fixed so it works.

The telegram arrives – LIVE LIFE PERFECTLY
But then it’s buried under compost.
Unfixed, the door still opens and shuts.

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