Carnival

There was a –
dragon and dancing and carving and cup cakes
and raffles and bunting wound right round the
houses we waved at and talking and meeting with feathers
and flowered balloon men who bent them and gave them
to children who used them to sword fight and held up
a pound to amuse them by guessing or laughing
and dipping their fingers to show us a gift from
their shining excitement inviting us joining
with knots and steel bands and with hands
held together we picked up and packed up
our carnival treasures tucked into our costumes
we danced on our way.

Moth

Attic ulating, up the words I climb
in slippered undulating rhyme and
stop, unlock the heavy door, a key
to sticky notes before, and there
in chests the best are laid, the odd
and old and folded, saved, unsaid
they fester in the gloom, their spell
a chrysalis too soon. Ah what to take
and plunder? Through asundered parts
I blunder, scattering pasts in tissue
screams, all tip and topple, broken
dreams in dust and dappled light are
held again, and one, it might not
be a pretty thing, will be a moth
and from my midnight pen take wing.