#amwriting #poem #poetry Fen - 5

Fen - 5

Later we went back - dropping though the roof
tapped out by the sweet chestnut and time to rot -
into that kitchen of familiar ghosts.
In the grimy light, creeping through the crusted
single pane, that stared blank down the garden
to the playhouse next' the sump, we looked
to the shadows where once had been the cooker
and the fridge, and to the warping laminate surfaces
now thick with dirt and seeds, blown and dripped
but never quite of life.Yet still upon the wall
between black tracked damp, unturning
was the calendar stuck forever in July. We shared
a stolen No6, and let our memories run
to a fancied scene with party food,
and blue iced cake, and paper plates. and paper hats,
and a golden mat of sunlight, dabbled to the weight
of sandal'd feet. Until spooked into mockery.
We went into the living room peeled of all but
the leather settee, on which we stood to inspect
the bleached silhouette of the gun. So many summers
had it hung in the laze and stretch of afternoon
that the paper fossil trigger seemed in motion,
not as yet released. but taut against the cock.