In your bedroom’s canary wallpaper,
you see cranes and peacocks creeping
ever closer. Under the Worcester
Pearmain out the back, there’s a man
and his black Labrador, standing still,
and fish-heads scattered everywhere;
hundreds upon hundreds of them.
No wonder the cat’s going berserk.
Nevertheless, a barn-owl chimes
with the Strawberry moon on top of
terracotta flower-pots stacked inside
each other upside down. The cat
meows the house down, rubs his body
and upright tail round and round your legs
until you’re dizzy with it all, as if
you’ve drifted inside a kaleidoscope
for days on end.