That, And the Reckoning …

He’s promised to cut an autumn hedge,

Been putting it off – and he knows it –

But this is the time for the shears,

That and the reckoning. For long pendulum moments

He stands: foolish, forlorn, close to being forsaken,

A million and more Perdition Highway miles

From being forgiven. The truth settles closer,

Like a must-wear shroud.

His fingers, fumbling in the act of

Bringing Lucifer to one more forbidden fag

Falter and shake: no boat for him,

That was just chewing smoke.

But he has reality’s answers to seek,

Before the tendrils of insidious truth,

Of Hallowe’en mist strangle the colours

From All Soul’s Michaelmas daisies

And the fallen clock sundown

Summons the oyster fungus shades.

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