The sun comes like a head
through last night's turtleneck.
A pigeon in the yard turns tail
and offers me a card. Any card.
From pillar to post, a pantomime
of damp, forgotten washing
on the washing line.
So, in the breeze:
the olé of a crimson towel.
the cancan of a ra ra skirt,
the monkey business of a shirt
pegged only by its sleeve,
of a handkerchief.
I drop the blind
but not before a company
of half a dozen hens
struts through the gate,
looks round the courtyard
for a contact lens.
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Comments about this poem (Cataract Operation by Simon Armitage )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(18 November 1939)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(22 March 1941 -)
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