our unallocated sins
are drifting,
seeking fresh assistance

i do not mean
the old fashioned
transgressions

but the new ones,
which don’t require
forgiveness,

only collaboration
and are readily
and easily repeated

our quota is unfulfilled,
the opportunities
missed,

you and i
dwell
in different places

ha, bella donna,
what a trick
is hiding poison
in flowers!

animals, birds, fish,
don’t conceal
their danger
but flaunt it,

they all know
diner from dinner,
and which side
they sit.

do the flowers
know their breed
when they tempt
us over?

are they distressed
if we collapse
or do they savour
our remains?

it is always a sign
the shadow of a landing plane
that covers you for an instant

the pattern of smudges
made by discarded gum
on the pavement

a missing pet poster
taped to a light pole
for a black and white dog

the song heard from the window
of a car waiting
for the lights to change

the strings of bells
that ring against the glass
of swinging doors

the spill of sugar
on the dark wood
of the table

the sequence of dates
on the coins
you receive as change

it is always a sign
they no longer want you

it is always a sign
they are missing you