My Diary: Clinging To The Rim Of A Classical Urn

June had to work,‭ ‬at first in a sniffy nose and then in a half closed eye.‭ ‬I walked with Poppy along the top deck of a Royal Navy ship at the Battle of Cadiz before writing my shopping list on a rogue cannon ball and throwing a Polaroid photograph of a water drop into the emerald green of our garden pool.‭ ‬As the wind blew with a lisp I spoke to old clothes about their departed wearers and then hid an empty notebook under a rock‭ ‬-‭ ‬as a precaution I hid a pencil under another and then lined up plants like seaweed messages on a Sargasso page.‭ ‬I noticed that the people next door use what looks like withered arms for fence posts.‭ ‬I had this in my head when I spread my pterodactyl wings like a table cloth on the crinkled chip ground just moments before June returned from work.


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