O Poem by Grahame Lockey

nought
or a hoop
to play with,
jump through;
at a push:
a wheel;

from scratch:
a moon, a sun;
a lens
to look through;
what we fear
is after us:

nothing;
but now
it can receive
a finger,
dimple lobes,
be stolen, lost;

an open mouth:
a choirboy
singing, a yawn,
an exclamation;
then a bullethole;
the earth and moon

of zero, freezing;
the shoot into
whatever light;
the settlement
of scores;
at once a ball

the play at love,
at nil;
a laughing stock
to grip the neck,
a throwable tomato;
wrong, in writing -

nothing understood;
when where
we started from
we end,
we know the loop
we've turned through

comes to
nought
or a hoop
to play with,
jump through;
at a push: a wheel...