And state their surreal reasons with a smile

I  went and got a few, new .small size dishes

The old ones are too big for  only me

I weep as in the bowl I  gently wash

The ones we used  to use when we had tea.

Here’s a terracotta  Spanish pan.

We  filled to entertain our  dearest friends.

Y0ur dish of  onions,garlic,and  spring lamb;

Bright tomatoes added to the blend.

Here’s a souffle dish  for  six  or eight .

Cheese or lemon,  you enjoyed them both.

And here are all the larger dinner plates.

To separate from these, I’m   feeling loth.

I don’t know if I’ll cook for friends again

They’ve not cooked  Jane Grigson in  a while

Are they afraid I’ll steal their  husband man?

And  state their  surreal reasons with a smile

In the guide for  losers I was told

Prepare to lose some friends and then some more.

I don’t want their men so  mild, unbold

I’ve closed   the windows and   I’ve locked the doors

I feel they compliment me as they think

I’m so  alluring  I can pull again.

But I have  had enough of  loveless links.

I don’t want any  cast off ,needy  men.

I dry the steel,  the glass, and the old copper.

I dry the lids  of each ;I muse on  colour

What shall I conjure up for my last  supper?

What  gruesome  healthy diet shall I follow?

I  want to be with you one lost hour.

A   cup of Earl Grey  tea, a chance to talk.

But I accept that will be nevermore,

Like my hand in yours on our  long walks

I didn’t know that you were dying

The doctors are afraid of saying.

I wish I were in your arms, just lying.

I’ve tired of churches and of praying.

I felt that tendon in your  long left hand

You turned  around and smiled so brightly.

Then the curtains of  your death descend.

You slipped away so  gently ; love you quietly.

Do we set the table with tectonic plates?


Were the Ammonites a people or a stone?
Was the government of fossils on the roam?
Were the rocks and mountains rumbling
As the government were stumbling?
I’ve sent my resignation on a bone.


Was the Earthquake sent by demons  or mischance?
Were the stolen dinners appetising once?
Were the plates of this old earth
Asking what is human worth?
Was it  you who sold my poems by mischance?

Do we set the table with tectonic plates?
In New Zealand, do men call each other, mate?
Did we eat with silver cutlery
To show the world our subtlety?
I   bear in mind that I could  navigate.

We’ll be sitting down to  dinner with  the men.
We’ll be grateful as a sinner  is,Amen.
We’ll gladly serve our sentences
And weep to show repentance.
Then we’ll set off  nuclear dynamite again