In the garden

In the garden a ginger cat
chatters
his teeth

watches
the dragonfly on the washing line,
the Russian vine twining
over the fence

and butterflies

(At the cricket, wickets fall
applause
hangs in the wind)

The cat matches
the stones
he lies on. Stretches
his length,
soaks up the sun.

The dragonfly (orange) drying its wings
flings itself into the air then
lands, a little further along.

A tiny insect drowns
in my wine. I light
another cigarette,
turn the page.

(Someone else is out. Shouts
carry on the breeze. A police car’s siren

wails.)

In the garden two empty lager cans,
broken clothes pegs, dead leaves
lie.
Next door’s ivy climbs, tumbles over
the wall
carpets the pathway,
hauls itself skywards, blocks
my light.