Salad Days
I often thought how wonderful
To go walking on the beach.
In the
company of a pear,
A banana and a peach.
In the rosy glow of a
tranquil dawn.
We’d stroll along the sand.
Smiling. Laughing
happily.
Hand in hand in hand.
Oh, fruity friends!
What salad
days!
My heart rejoiced to greet them.
And if I tired of their
ways,
I’d simply stop and eat them.
2006
Mahatma's Coat
I knew that Indian man whose name was Mahatma Coat
He lived at the bottom of my garden in a converted rowing boat.
To be seen to be bald and shiny was his secret dread.
So he trained a long haired tabby cat
To sleep upon his head.
The cat kept his head warm and cosy
When the cold wind blew from the South.
But each time Mahatma ate porridge
Its tail got stuck in his mouth!
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I search the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratùe
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I search the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratùe
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