11.36am, Sunday

Sitting on the wall by the Cantonese Kitchen
is too worthwhile this morning. The old lady
called it: "That looks nice," she said, netted in
winter sunshine. We were sharing a Florentine,

halved like an amulet. That looks nice.
On the wall by the Cantonese Kitchen
we learnt and forgot, in the tock of a jaw,
how to hunt out a moment and pin it.