Rebecca Jayne Poem by Malcolm Evison

Observing the precarious
existence
of household plants

swiftly followed by
the sideways glance
at buttered scones –

aroused by appetites
of taste and touch and sight –

she reaches out to clutch
the flower, trembling
with anticipation of the feel

or knowledge of restraining hands.

Seeking adulation
with every tentative step –
the pleasure of each stretch

a fleeting reminiscence
of the unencumbered state
of birthday grace.