(i)            Keys

These little twists of metal
without them
civilization is lost
stuck in a distant suburb
with pulse dead
in the talisman.
To lose them
behind a cushion
is enough to waken the devil.
Home is where the key fits
and every lock
this plea for mercy enters
is frozen


   (ii)            Wallet

That target for pickpockets
holder of shopping lists
raffle tickets, rare cash,
petrol receipts,
old photos of children
when once they were cute,
uncomfortable bulge
in too tight jeans
portion of cow hide
too small for a boot.


(iii)            Comb

Not for me
strange plastic gills
filtering the scalp
for krill
or any other scurf
shed in the night,
but necessary
for looking, as the caveman
foresaw, gathering
his tools for the kill
so much neater.

poet's biography ->