Tuesday, July 16

Fell

the lodgers
barely theirs
straddle branches

after midday
Their jeans
blueing fair

an orange cord
electric chainsaw
taking down

the tree that
so many years
blossom wilted

(became nudity),
wholesome
, tumbled round

again—they
laugh, tell
madmen jokes,

prop beers
on the patio
table, extensive-

ly the radio
playing takes
their time

Surrounding
neighbours
glance up

admire, awe,
wine cocktails
& thanks & praise

(if only for
welcome sunlight
on patio chairs)

the cracks
sat almighty
tree down on the

lawn—and the
fellers laughed
onto another!

not long left
one finger pointing
—ballerina sawing

& crackle shuffle
onto garden shed
(‘sorry shed!’

) the light—it’s
hard not to
be arrested.

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