BEING IN THE PRESENT TENSE


Today I am not cabbage white,

tearing holes in a web, my flutter trapped.

Today I am spider, binding wings in a bundle.

 

Today I am not sparrowhawk,

pestered, driven from my treeline patrol.

Today I am jackdaw, a single-handed mob.

 

I am not today eye-line over prison wall.

Today I am poky bookshop,

my stacked spines tense to touch, spellbound.

 

Today, as one of six magpies,

I bossed an empty children’s park.

Tomorrow I shall be the glint of sun on its railing.



 

iv.2015

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