You’re covered in the shit of life.
Great big clumps of it.
Hands jammed so far down,
You have become,
A statue in the park.
Someone once told me,
Look up when you’re down,
There’s God in the clouds.
Rabbits in tuxedo’s and hedgehogs exploding,
Bands of men with strong pointed noses,
Streams of women with long flowing scarves,
Platters of cheese and housewives in Bath-tubs,
Stoves and kettles and cottages
And soldiers reloading-
I could use some rain.
evocative short poetry – words move