Put down binoculars,
take off your sunglasses,
open two eyes
a sun’s new shout.
Birds cry out,
bees are about.
with only seconds to live - eat a grape
but with minutes to live – telephone.
If you’ve hours left to live - family
or a few days to live - meet your mates.
With two weeks to live - walk alone
and with months left to live - write a book.
With years to live – ropes go slack.
Dance like an angel
under a cracked roof
smile like a devil
sprinkling seeds of love.
Flop your arm over
every person’s shoulder
going for your hug time,
rounding off a good time.
Like any seraphim
letting go with ‘Ta-ra!’,
wave as a cowboy
abandoning his team.
Angels do their best
and walk off to the West.
In my heart - a water bomb –
like a spirit – bubble –
locked within my heart’s divide
in closets, rooms and cupboards
on the slant and stuck there,
unable to burst out
‘cos every chamber’s boarded up
with dust and drying wattle.
I need to scrub and scrub – berserk -
and clear the crap away
from here - in here - it’s Banksy’s work,
Bristle, scrubbing brush - and soap -
and with a leap - at last, at last -
my bubble levels - bursts – and softly - oh - I weep.