BUTTERCUP

BUTTERCUP

BUTTERCUP

I put a buttercup under my chin & yellow vans go past –
some say RENEW GLASS, others SASH WINDOWS.

USB cables & leads run through my copy of Sophocles –
Oedipus : this is a sign, the pact seals my fate.

After the hospital we brought him back for the first time
– shook up in the harsh responsible ache of love –

we chose him a book to show what he meant to us :
it was too dark to see we were reading Kidnapped by RLS,

the lamp burned too bright to read. His escape came when
we went to the sea to see what was hilarious, each wave

crashed its comedy plates between my toes as he was thrown
across my shoulders. At last he knew that two thirds of the world

was what he thought each time he wet himself