Beside a tranquil sea where nothing lives
And craters cast their shadows on the dust
A Stay Puft boot print is a sculptor’s mould
That’s waiting for the alloy to be poured.
A woman sits beneath a banyan tree
Her features dappled by the shade it gives
Her palms are open, waiting to receive
The jewel of clarity, however flawed.
Below a rack of handforks, trugs and sieves
Enveloped in the cedar-scented gloom
A box of rockets, Catherine wheels and squibs
Is waiting for the weather to turn cold.
Inside the lightless cavern of these ribs
A lotus bud is waiting to unfold.
(C) Helen Lewis 2012