named with alarming accuracy
repeating and terrifying patterns
he became aware of – here, there, this,
that
tendency. Along the way we mastered
cooking, toad-in-the-hole, usury, fluff,
sing a song of sixpence, iterative truth:
nodding behind old safety in his hood
and the terror of being rumbled,
understood.
John, i found you on twitter by Vincent's tweet and your poetry is lovely.
ReplyDeleteI have a grandson with down's, he is only three so god knows what is in store for him.
I have a poetry blog with 21 authors, i would love to have you as one, Harry.