a blank page,         decent
steady gaze, shrill voice,       heroic,
superb brown eyes that       trustful

wrap them­selves      unhelp­ful,
around, bind from        nor­mal,
head to foot so          terrifying

they sel­dom talked,      lovely
neigh­bours were      hon­est
dying,         inconvenient

not know­ing what      hor­rible
to make, so famil­iar       fri­gid
that he need not be     remorseful

looked into. an unusual      lippy
air of quiet­ude, apropos      sunny

bas­ket of sew­ing, the      hairy
rain­bow on the cupboard,      solidified

the mod­estly sur­prised        sick
grin and the piece of        tight

rope tied around its        funny
middle.              gross

Colin Herd lives, works and writes poems in Edin­burgh. He blogs at The Devil Reads Poetry and co-edits the new magazine Any­thing Any­more Any­where.