my thoughts were pilled
up against the door
like a
stack
of stale
pancakes
that my childhood
refused to eat
mum had folded
a rusty key
in the sweet batter
when I was too little
to know what it was for
but as Suns rotation
placed the twenty-first
soft slab
beneath the small
black shape
(I thought)
I heard the brass whisper


C

6 old applause
