(after Ezra Poundís The Garden)
Hollyhocks on her orlon midi blouse
gum up infectious railings.
A sundial fields this exquisite birdcage.
Blue-mould sky is analgesic
applying pressure on plumago, kingcup, buddleia.
Explosions have arisen, fixed:
coming out hop, a love-lyric from Mosley,
a hundredweight of turning traitors,
At 80 her keepsakes are cliff-edged.
blah-blah through the side-path
to Comprehensive doors.
flagrantly dressed and feisty,