I’ve been watching a video on dancing the Flamenco,
tidied out my drawers and refolded all my pants,
been and had a cocktail down at the Fuzzy Flamingo,
counted every single one of a line of tiny ants.
I’ve placed all my penny coins in fifty pence piles,
imagined myself on an aeroplane sat next to Coco Gauff,
walked from Grassington to Kettlewell, counting all the stiles,
had an online chat with my doctor about a chesty cough.
I’ve set up a six-foot trap and caught a four-footed squirrel,
overpainted my self-portrait for the seventh time,
discovered my neighbour’s cock-a-poo’s called Cyril,
tried to write a whimsical poem, but it didn’t bloody rhyme.
I’ve dead-headed every one of our fifty something roses.
imagining you’re back beside me, the way your eyebrow slants,
ironing all your linen handkerchiefs, between fitful daily dozes,
tidying out my drawer again and re-folding all my pants.
