Collective Nouns

I see only rolling scenes
rumbling
rattling screen
but know that scent
like forever

Like love or satisfaction
not gloating
proud
but pleasant
Time bottled
barraged grass
green thoughts
dreams of mud
soil and dirt

I feel vampish
Rayban
wrong
belonging not to open air
trees and grace
only brickwork
sullen metal
cold
dusty
bored of life
a dead not tragic form

Tragedy flocks with birds
not ravenous
pasty
slake-eyed poverty of space
or natural cleanliness
a herd
a Smirnoff of female journalists
an embarrassment of wine bottles
Not for me
But she’s here
not far away
close now
like Angels' breath
in the way
that only
they can be

J. x