Thursday

will you not
just pop
round then,
slot into the olde
ways you
love so much?

and know
i am one big
breast,
a flagon
of mouthings,
apothecary
of nooks?

and will you not
step back
to squint
my whole
spring of flesh
to once?

for you will
change too-
(and soon we are gone
to winter clocks)