Seven lively crouches

SEVEN LIVELY CROUCHES

1

without prescription, tight along the straightened concrete,

between the shrub of leaves and the sheer of fence,

fearful of the emptiness that loiters on the low fleet of grass

behind the false finality of the house with its apparent windows,

three in a crouch, intent upon the target tree,

the traps of apple fruit that hang infused.

2

a chosen claim to privacy, no parents near to arbitrate,

a weave of limbs, no play of breath, on either side,

enough is in the bruise of cloth to clue an eager hidden ear,

their eyes are closed, cupidinous, our eyes are wide, imagining,

crouched thick where traitor sofa shies off the papered wall,

a proxy-thrill, an awesome lesson, blind but learnt by heart.

3

pursuit distributes impulses, now to eye and finger, bridged,

balancing surprise that will pump gently through restraint,

while foreign senses ask his reason's task across the air,

decanting forms and changes to assess his kill persuasion,

nature distilling luck's selection, now to weight and muscle, crouched,

a movement will discern the spoil of aim, and recoil test his bent.

4

entropy invades the stadium, all act is delegated to the eyes,

all sound returns to breath around this pitch of will and chance,

all directions leading to and from a foot, the ball balanced in

the hand's caress, on the shy white blemish, crusted to the grass,

the keeper bides, crouching at the brink of netted space,

a juror in the judgement of the hard and rounded air.

5

an open door contrives a screen, angled over tufted tarmac,

the parked car hides a puddle on the sterile track, newly spayed

by four lane transit, heedless of how they interfere,

path with path, glance with glance, a mid-pee shuffle, shoes

to wipe, the crouching wife has spied our far-side recognition,

with cycles poised we watch and smile, and wait a pause to ride.

6

excluded from the search, a cul-de-sac of coats and jackets,

but to cupboards and bedrooms, doors are opened, a promise

of temperance is offered for submission while menaces

scour the home, lusting to renew wounds on the flinching

infant silence, crouched among protective fabrics, hope hung,

and closing anger, fit to tame a brute, bulges at credulity.

7

inside the sheath of water, all is solvent opportunity,

lapsing change purports a state of wait, a mobile measure,

undefined, shrouded by the shield of shapes in air, exchanging

games of light and gravity, and at the liquid lip a snatching

figure crouches, toying hazard's whims till now is reached,

events disturbed, perhaps enough to invent deadly time.

cradled in sly intuition, conviction's hunch,

the wilful crouch to the needful nod,

a pledge of deeper resource

than glib bowing before any greedy god.