Summoned
It happened just outside the allotments On a ground baking day in late July The top buttons of his white shirt were rent The skin underneath was burned pink and dry He lifted his straw hat, mopped his forehead With a hanky the size of a bed sheet Then dropped to his knees as if he would wed Into a puddle since dried in the heat A woman in a headscarf and sundress Clashed the wooden gate and dropped her small purse Crouching so that her hem swept the dust excess She cradled his head and let out a curse The horses standing in the paddock plot Flicked their tails and broke out into a trot More midcentury ramblings here
