Toes - frozen to carpet,
Fingers are warm
But the back’s too sore to bend.
There’ll be broomstick taps
On the window;
There’re sweeping sounds
Across the lawn.
Battery acid’s
Reaching for boots.
Blown bulbs are
Combing hair
And teeth
Are yellow
Like tulips
In wondrous
Bloom.



Email this Poetry
Add to reading list


