(Indirah at the Boot Fair)
Such a hot day, a shame to have no one to share it with…
On the crowded field at Victor Beamish Avenue
She wanders to the edges where vetch and dry stalks bow
Blue fades like salt, whites are surreal
As if sharp ghosts loiter, bleaching sullenly
Before expiring, famished by such solstice light.
At the perimeter fence she squints at the soldiers
In their green khakis, scarcely children to be so restricted
Keeping people orderly or something like it
It’s all about control.
Nothing she could buy would add years lost
A ring slipping from the finger into the undergrowth
A kiss which became a bite
Might also be remembered as a kiss…
Did it matter when his hair was so soft and nice?
What happened, happens
In summer we cannot imagine the pain of winter
In August heat- we long for ice.
Veronica Aldous 2016 All rights reserved