Kensington Gardens

‘I think some’ she says
after thirty
hours & the hyde park

‘of your melancholy’
came birds
coloured in crowds

‘from earlier’ like fruit
in autumn
out of famous rock stars

; ‘in the week’ these
grasses dew
with dogs & joggers

‘has rubbed off’ & the
soft soil
for horses turned & sprayed

‘on me’ cannot lift
a finger
to care, to apologise.