A slow and rhythmic creaking
From ancient marriage beds
An alms-house warden
Hearing, downs his cup
A wife turns off a wireless
Bought grey decades ago
Suggesting they go up
The plumping-up of pillows
A naughty nightie found
A frisson of relief
And recognition
A resurrected chimney
From lost industrial ground
Awaits her demolition
Relaxing at the golf links
A doctor says it's good
But curses
His prescription writer's
cramp
Then, handicap forgotten
Selects himself a wood
As Eros pitches camp
In satiated small hours
The beast with two bad backs
Lies chafed in petit mort
And de-turnescence
As vacuum pumps lie dusty
In dressing table drawers
And gather obsolescence
Then shaky-legged, a nation
Goes trembling off to work
Salacious sunlight
Rakes the bedroom floor
And on the tell-tale clothes lines
The sheets and duvets jerk
Like so much semaphore.
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