A damp day in Revesby
Slow rain flows down the window pane
I go outside to stop the garden door banging
There is much to do
I put milk in my coffee
Instead of on my cereals
Adobe cannot find my specifications
And neither can I
I watch the video
Projected onto the fireplace wall
I am reminded of the photographs
And eventually find the file-path
A damp day in Revesby
Elements takes eight minutes to render
Although my son tells me, that back in the day
It would have taken at least half-a-life
I drink the cold water
I taste, then eat, the cold baked beans
I peel, then devour, the indistinct tangerine
Why so expansive
Why so interested
What have I done
To deserve this
Yes it was a place
From my past
Central to the city
Where I might have found you
Yet without any love interest
Not anyone that I remember
Bur why would I
It was such a long time ago
There in the gallery
Glass tables
Set out in rectangular patterns
Some had clay, some didn’t
There was clay
Which I worked
I was part of this
Upstairs
A huge piece of furniture
Which looked likely
To topple over
At any moment
I felt responsible
I was part of this
The main artist
Had been overwhelmed
He left
To go on a walk
His disciples worried for him
I got on with the job
I felt to belong
Today is the shortest day
So followers of the winter solstice inform me
You see I am not so well versed
With the factual facilities of life
So I get by, by believing in
What others care to bring
If it is the shortest
Might it not also qualify
As the brightest
Which a scientist may tell me
That the sun and moon and stars
Coincidentally deliver this to me
