A Start at the End

It’s an alarm in the morning.

It’s the hole in my shoe,
It’s the taste in my mouth.

It’s never saying never,
It’s twenty-eight of a hundred,
It’s a piano.

It’s a postcard bought but not sent,
It’s an empty balloon,
It’s the drunken walk up the stairs trying not to wake you,
It’s meeting ex-girlfriends in supermarkets.

It’s your favourite song,
It’s twenty-two of a hundred,
It’s a cat with no food,
It’s running out of battery,
It’s the scum in the sink.

It’s smokers’ toothpaste,
It’s the tick on a dog,
It’s a house of cards,
It’s clambering through the evergreens
and the stingers in the garden,
It’s a shopping list,
It’s the bag
in the alley.

It’s a man on the run,
It’s oil on the road,
It’s the flea in the circus,
It’s a sawn-off
shotgun.

It’s wellington boots,
It’s the voice on the radio,
It’s purple gloves,

It’s a start.