it stutters in my heel as i limp
the potatoes are under attack
as they flower in the white heat
the first zucchini small tender
fried with their orange flowers
delectable in egg batter
sprinkled parsimoniously with salt
the radishes are finished
too bitter now too hard
they will be cast to the eager rays of the sun
and burnt to compost
between midday and the dying night
i amble this evening
thinking of how much money one needs
to protect a dream
i fear the air they breathe
i do not trust the words
from beneath their southern smiles
spinach leaves raw peas
pungent rucola coriander plenty
parsley and basil gathered
water sprinkled carrots in ferrous earth
finally starting to grow
pain is a lizard mating in the jaws of morning
the grass snake seems to fly
over the dead weeds
the lizards jump to avoid its black gullet
the swallows year after year
build the same nest of dead olive twig and straw
somewhere you dance
somewhere you scream
i doubt these rumours which have you dead
your flamenco is an undying sunset
as you cry dry tears over your baby's sleeping brow
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