In untidy light

criminals bud

on manky branches Singapore, London.

Ayn Rand’s underpants smoulder

as the stolid farm workers are buried with their wills.
Healing via austerity, Orchard Rd

(bypass pity). Five tattoos.

Those summer clothes

pass this merry chaos with

a chalky insouciance…

their never-worried hip switch.
I have danced

& been forgiven. Each leaf is personal.

That same timber gives both fruit & outrage.

The cat farms an acre

we won’t feel release

until the claws dig in.