Through Tangled Roots

Through tangled roots of upturned licorice trees,
Flattened whitegoldsunyolk floods the sky,
And the bashful dyad bows to how it is:
Her downcast eyes kow-tow to Mother Earth.
The mirror says, "Poor lamb, you're lookin' old",
Wires exposed, and, like her, thinly drawn.
Lost in second series Fawlty Towers,

Locked in repeats, pale ghosts of seventy five.
Kneeling broken on your Ben Gunn beard,
You scrape between the fortress prison blocks,
Wait and hope, recall the teenage dream.

What say we promenade through the park, Leo?
Can't repeat the past? Of course you can.
It's the real, the here and now we cannot bear.