Some day it will

Drip drop home in

A round tub,

Some Love and maybe

Some pain, but wheeling

Gently, carrying stuff

And me, along.


One day it will tip,

That look, that feeling

Through the table

Will strike out into

Flesh and

Make it leap home

Argentine Tango

Stand alone and let someone else

Be somewhere else

For now

Time will bring them near when

Life is clear of



Now is untidy

But I’ve made a start and


Strike off the path

With a misspent

Day of gorging and


Now, I know

The mess is still there

But the drunken

Guests have left.

Their dirty glasses

And cigarette ends

Tell the story of

What’s passed, but

They will be cleared

Away as surely

As that sofa’s stained

And what remains

Are memories, soft,

And hard,

And wood to be

Cut , to relight

A hearth

Long forgotten, ‘neath

Footrest, newspapers

And a tower of DVDs.