... he'll not nourish causes

Running rest-day ...

... and here's a poem from Andrew Greig's 1990 collection, 'Order of the Day':


NUT

Love hammers on the roof with a starting handle,
yells 'Open up
so I can kill ya'. You must be joking.

It's been hard work, growing up.
He wants to stay an uncracked nut.
He lies in the bowl of the city
with a million others
going fousty at the heart.

None must pick him, he'll not nourish
causes, nor desire dangerous as guns ...

But a hand is reaching down
and sorting through the streets towards him
comes one whose fingers could caress
or crack him like a flea.