This one will do –she said, turning page after page
Of coruscating light- entries of deities, Orpheus
In his underpants, the other mythic guys
It’s not like that – Gerda cried aloud
Sleeping on her back on reindeer pelts
Elks heads and cave bears ruining the night air
There is the realm of mandragores and cartomancy
And then the section called non-fiction reality
Kay is up there in the sky with that icy meringue
Which is the way forward, which finer?
Read tea leaves down Cock Lane with Andrew Lang?
Or find a better way to locate the lover.
In gardens full of lavender, bees are onerously
Making honey. Upstairs Kay lies on ermine
Eating easy toxic Turkish Delight
With a quilted, pelted, frozen, younger woman.