Sunday Worship
Kevin Garnett / David Brown
Dehydrated eyes dazed and uncertain
Register light at the edge of the curtain
Recollections return and the place is familiar
As is your face on its side in the mirror
You cradle the grey cat – your hand on her hip
We blink a conspiratorial wink
Sunday worship
Underwear everywhere in a tipsy trail
Like the unsold aftermath of a jumble sale
Your ruby shoes stand to attention
I see a lone brogue I don’t see the left one
Your neatly pressed dress looks like a same day purchase
I conjure the treat that goes underneath
Sunday worship
Sunday worship makes me happy
And if you’re feeling shabby
There’s no better way to nurse it
Sunday worship
You’re still asleep so I bide my time
Wishing like a fisherman for the twitch on the line
Your chest heaves and the cat is purring
Beneath the sheets something is stirring
I skip to the Premiership and think who has the worst strip
But even Beckham comes second to
Sunday worship
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