Katherine Page
A Cup of Sugar
The man next door is back
from the graveyard shift.
Black with Underground dust,
he digs his garden by moonlight.
He gives me cabbages.
When I spear a limp toad,
he slides it from my fork.
We all live close enough
to mould each other’s dreams.
Upstairs move their wardrobes,
winch down the mail on strings.
Their footfalls echo in my head,
their drum and bass tows me
like a mother’s thumping heart.
The girl opposite clutches tea
wearing a pink towelling gown.
She is closer to the sky,
living my mirror life, but better.
When the garden quad floods
I swim under ice to her patio
belly-up, bearing winter pansies.
Page(s) 73
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