4 January 2011

New huge woolen cardigan from a Hexham charity shop, red trousers, red tights, red smarties that turn my lips red.

And I've read my blank pages of unwritten essay so many times that I make poems instead.

You are all nose, child, now that you are man.

More bone than soft edges, you have grown.

You like that you can count your ribs today.

All I see is nose, the nose that leads you.

It is Roman, like the obverse of a coin.

More Hadrian than Nero. Please.

Build walls tomorrow. Don’t let them burn.


Ma said...

Its worth the procrastination to get some good family portraits on the go. The red tights maybe were a bit too red...........do they look like a belisha beacon?

anna said...

Man, I HOPE so! I love'em.