4 pm

4pm is the hour
When babies
Start rotating
Like Strimmer blades

When lilac OAPS pull
Their support tights
Over their Elnetted
Heads and

Spit dentured phlegm
In your eye. When
Seagulls ravish bin
Bag papooses and

You round the corner
To confront your
Bedroom excrement shaking
It out with crusted tea bags.

4pm is when I go
Underground. My
Base camp: the sofa
And a blanket that

Smells of wee
And bonfires. I keep
Very still and
Wait.