To Have Longer Periods of Light One has to Go North

Always water from the bottom
says the care leaflet of the patio rose.
He remembers the sense of affront he felt
when he saw bastard on the bathroom mirror,

and later that day, the head of a match had flown
off and burnt him when he’d struck it;
the pain had nearly made him crash the car.
He’d have to take stock.

All this is in the past, for now he’s intent
on kissing another woman’s abdomen.
The fish in the pond are coming up to watch
and the colours are richer than he’s seen before.
Smoke billows from a neighbour’s bonfire.
He notices that once again he’s drunk too much.

Annie Freud