…

martian men invade earth
come the week ahead?

so tomorrow’s crumpets?
yesterday’s brown bread?

saladin & mothman
in your garden shed?

guinivere & danu
underneath my bed?

as the sun is singing
songs around the moon

bats above us gliding
of an afternoon

four & twenty mute swans
talking to the dead?

& a cat with eyebrows?
possibly, she said

…