Comments about Esmond Jones
In the gloom of the dusty shed
he pulls faces at seed potatoes,
then shakes off their reek, snatches
back his breath from the underworld mould
and enters the sea-light of the greenhouse
where he grapples with a hose
that’s slipped his hold
as he’s hit by a heavy
of yellowing tomatoes.
Next, the villain in him will show:
he’ll cut flowers for madam’s vase.