TUESDAY 28
Horse chestnut blossom
fading, ready to leave to
mark the start of June.
WEDNESDAY 29
After the rain, the
the bench is dry enough but
covered in bird shit.
THURSDAY 30
On the way to the
Knife Angel, the bus passes
where someone was killed.
FRIDAY 31
A man sits between
tubs of flowers, outside the
delicatessen.
SATURDAY 1
A dog’s squealing bark.
I think of a terrier,
but it isn’t there.
SUNDAY 2
The car door open
to let in drizzly air. A
wood pigeon flies up.
MONDAY 3
Crimson hair and a
chorus of Queen Anne’s Lace. No
clover, no dragons.
Seventeen 