Kerri Shying R # 407 - Spoils

Spoils

it's what you dream of
while you wait    back in court
for the verdict of that concrete bulwark

where sound ricochets
all reality
pulled apart with pliers  spread
like entrails   across some parquet floor

it's what you dream of
the frangipani yard   small white dogs
that leap
for hand-knit toys    in undergrowth
turbulent with native bees

fragrance of lotus calling in morning
from the pond   repel  that banging

shrink the splutter of the mower  of
her cough   behind the fence   ignore
the never-left-alone     gaze the fools
who bring their verdicts home