A Sequence of Five Poems

Under Weigh

In the last month I would cycle
each dusk round the meadow,
watching the rabbits hop briskly
away from the wheel. This was May
and the hay grew knee-high, thighhigh,
and I scythed through it - past
whippets and walkers, slender,
meandering lovers - thinking
of the physics of ships, how a keel
cuts best through deep waters
under a certain pressure of freight.


Pang

Forget the last weeks beached
in Joanna's garden watching
the snails gluily labour
up the inside arch of the trellis
...