Tombstones are vestiges of sadness
in a summer cemetery,* green and
jabbering with skittering birds, zithered with
wind-sieves of weathered shrubs;
so we catch our half awake gazes,
between idling dialogue, glum
on garden fences, perilously sagging and
sulking among the wisteria.
From this childhood treasure-house,
memories leap, sleek silky, jibing,
only to sheathe claws and purr
through the sun's unhurried rondo.
But the garden bloom is celled
(plants all potted-up);
tea-chests prove a bounded universe.
Now saw half-sound plywood
boat debris for lids.
Soon after arrival, when a DIY
time upped floorboards,
we clustered round a 'serviette ring'
memento from a Vimy rifleman;*
now we abandon, so someone's
curiosity , these feline tombs
among a birdsung cavalcade.
....................................
The *cemetery was really our back garden in Cambridge where a few family cats were buried. My father and mother were packing everything in tea chests and potting up their favourite plants from the garden in preparation for their move to the Norfolk coast. The serviette ring was made from a metal 'ring' that went round a rifle forestock, and 'Vimy Ridge'* had been inscribed on it. We had a plywood punt - a flat bottomed boat - falling apart by now and used the half decent panels as lids for tea chests.
YOU ARE READING
Tapestries
PoesíaPoems from 1978 onwards. These poems are in a different style from the later MajorSeventh, the earlier ones often with more of an Eastern-influenced cadence. Later, they vary a lot in form and style.
