How
Why
Where
What awfully inappropriate words
The dares of deception they cut my cloth too deep
My mother
Her mother before
I don’t know when they began
The cast iron ranges, ovens by the coal fire
The cares of conception they make my pencil seep
Have you
Do you
Could you care or know
Where these words are heading
What was it, that set them on their way backalong
Tin baths
Hanging rails for the drying
Cast enamel for the baking ovens
The park benches on the loneliest of afternoons
The fares of correction, they fill my pockets deep
My lover
Her lover before
I don’t know when they began
The fast diamond laces, the magic of the gyre
Stares of redemption; only my tears which we weep
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