Helping him hang pictures
he slugs tea and tells her
that leaves are just geometric.
Crunched down her haunches outside
she teaches tack pins to swim in puddles,
silently takes 'you can't break a lake' on her left cheek.
No matter then, that his scarf is sky string,
that their nights are cat's cradles
blotted with the bellies of swans
Hammer in her hand.
she flicks her tongue out
and offers to cook a supper thick with similie.
