Ward Round - April 1

By the end of it we're laughing - cakes help
we write in the feedback - we liked the cakes,
we liked the workshop - one man said red was
like his mind. I wondered about mine - quaint
mother of pearl swirled turquoise with glittered
silver or dark as a clot of veinous
blood, full of secret desire. A night sky
sprinkled with a thousand stars, brilliance
here, there - spyholes into a universe
of light. Or simple gold. By the end we're
like any other room full of people
smiling, making up our poems, rhymes slot
smoothly. The cakes helped. We said we liked them.