James Walton #51 I span in a hammock

I span in a hammock

that your father had hung

between the silver birches

stooping copsed guardians

imitating a graceful deference

yet the sky turned with me

and spilled me there

embarrassed a little shaky

still able to do a push up

while the family cat smirked

and a smiley dog licked the blood

from my forehead

later when no one looked

you first kissed the gravel away

then coming over the next day

the hammock was folded on the porch

under the cockatiel cage

Gyp your kelpie cross

scraped a rear leg over new stumps

but I hadn’t washed my head

life’s a bit like that