Silence its tired wars on gender equality. Outdoors,
the waves and frogs and frogs and waves
fight for the last word with more grace
and less hysteria,
and their references are sound.
Gather their counsel. Catch
the rain in your wine. You’re losing
your grip on time and hoping
that love will come full circle before it’s the end.
Leave your son to find his own feet. God knows
as long as you’re around he doesn’t need them.
Step gently amongst the fallen,
the white frangipani. Flip
the Christmas beetles right way up
again. It’s the small acts of care
that can kill you.
There’s a man climbing the stairs
with a glass of wine because you’re working late.
These are the things we take.
The tiniest baby gecko swallows lives.
And this is a test on yours.
And just three chords of love make it all worthwhile.