how absurd, the behaviour of living.
Plastic handles cut off the blood
6 bags of tins, why tins?
lugged along the long, long walk,
all on a fag and a strong cup of tea.
Stop for a breather, instant relief,
did Fiennes ever stop?
The children run on,
more of a Shackleton, shepherding them,
‘Spirits up kids, treats when we’re in’.
Lifts her Thor Heyerdhal face
into the wind,
deflects the ‘Cheer up love’
of leering sharks
with ‘stop at the curb, look left then look right’
pretends not to hear, ‘want another, love’, sneer.
Not far now, the brow of the hill,
calves flexing, feet slipping in old Dr Scholls,
lungs wheezing, twilight shift later -
never mind the cotton lung -
she can do this, she must do this,
she does this