Nano Wrimo (Poetry Monthly)

I’m writing a novel in November

Once I’ve finished looking over the playing fields

At the shape of the trees

Moving like Fab-ulous Jazz Hands

Once I’ve cleared up the leaves by the cat flap

In the shape of mice or frogs

A gentle cat’s carrion

Once I’ve buried the other cat that buried the squirrel

That buried the nuts

Under the bush

Once I’ve listened to just one more Rammstein track

Once I’ve messed about a bit

My wardrobe is funeral black

As dark as the month

But today I wore pink

With yellow

Just for the mellow of it

Or the hell-o of it

I’m a Battenberg villain

Sneaking across the cake

Sporting a top hat

Making excuses

For the days in November

I’m not writing my novel

And the leaves scud

And the day hibernates

And the clock ticks

Nano Wrimo

Nano Wrimo

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