Dolphin Street, Port Isaac. It’s raining.
Crab sandwiches and a pot of tea
in the café on the hill, now we’re back
in the cottage under a duvet on the sofa;
I’m reading Exit Music from the shelf
I always bang my head on coming down the stairs,
we’re sharing a box of Maltesers and wondering
why we have to drive all the way to Cornwall
and rent a cottage in order to live like kings.
Last night I dreamed it was the end
of the world again and I was about to give birth
from my right leg. The holy woman said:
I want you to think of three things:
your mother, a potato and a disappointment.
I can’t think of a single disappointment.
Pic: Claire Palmer