Much clanking in the rhododendrons, knights in the garden
Black knights, white knights, knights of the haiku table
Goes at pashing and tableaux of Glenrowan, garden knights
Much enjoyment of metal frustration, knights in garden
Larkspur, machine parts: satiric neighbours miming
Knights in the garden. Medieval war makes some tired
Makes some frisky. Makes frightening music says jockey
Says poetry critic. Makes mornings crispy says armour
Factory. Iris beneath the visor, keep to hydrangea path
Those were the knights’ instructions, do not be
Distracted, they were told by popup tulips popup dahlia
Beds, hail popping down from heavens to put dents in
Their mail. Much clanking in the broom cupboard on
Inclement days. That’s the way, I hear, amplified
Through golfing gear, relegated hi-fi equipment, I don’t
Know what houses have. Knights in the garden
Undergrads or sorcerers on the run; large fauna avoiding
Shooting parties between other kinds? Garden suits
Made for wooing, chasing and prevention of casual assault
Some knights feel their armour is rusted on, while
Gardens feel they can’t grow or present themselves to other
Kinds of visitors including bees, for the jousting
Jousting with words and ideas too, clang of helmets in
Disputes. Knights in the garden flinging gladis to
Provoke duels over 80s trivia. So many blemished ideals
And faces protected from the casual ear or gaze. Who
Are they all? They must have gardens of their own to go to
These knights, where they can read obscure Swiss
Geniuses, reenact enrolment ceremonies from the world’s
First university, viz, Fez, to spill wine inside their outer
Skins, desire others who are similarly invisible, greyly
Unattainable in gardens. Trail ivy through the beer bottles’
Brown, visual music; in the black, visor-down dawn
