Kingdom.

Evening light casts half-shadow across the old man's desk,
seeking a last delicate remembering of this place
and of the splendid odd assembly arrayed on aged oak.
A rainbow fuzz gathers,
on edge-sharp and facet of a crystal writing set.
Disposing of its revised light,
it adds playful colour to the surfaces around it.
The day's warmth,
having energised the scene,
raises a chemical mixture of scent, and wax, and stain.
Here lies a pistol,
its barrel oozing a fine bleeding of gun-oil,
creeping wet on the porous matt of the blotter.
And here, an ebony chess piece lies in isolation from its fellows.
Not slain, but cradled softly on linseed soaked rag.
Tiny tin snuffboxes play hide and seek among the debris,
often found by faint lingerings of their tart possession.
Tweezers hold feeble grip on a faded red stamp,
torn carelessly from a letter long sent and.... long forgotten.
Tide marked,
a teacup of finest bone records the passing of many days,
and having distilled its yellowed content to tarry brown,
its liquid mechanism run down,
it falters, choking with dust.
Heady with lavender, a breeze sweeps the room,
gathering in it loose oddments on the desk,
rearranging them across its surface;
planning new landscapes for busy flies to explore,
their wings blur-bright between manic pausing.
And beneath a book, hides a pair of long, sharp scissors;
ever ready to fight off unwelcome fingers,
to lacerate and probe unsuspecting flesh.
Blood tribute to this most precious domain.

***

They come in packs of three or five,
and sometimes even just the one.
It seems in size they vary little,
it seems one size fits nearly all.
Smaller ones are on offer,
but who'd admit to child's proportion.
Varied in shape and colour are they,
with strange appliqués and decoration.
Tougher ones are availed,
to those who make a special effort
to climb that mount or go that dist.
Some, I'm told, can glow at night,
what use is that when enclosed tight?
Silvered and gold and thin we find them,
one function all; soft flesh protect.
When new we carefully unwrap, and...
time right, pull on admiringly.
Hopes are high for fulfilment in function,
no hole to appear and sadden wearer.
Now used, abused they're cast aside,
often on the floor to linger.
Sometimes to fester neath the mattress,
martyr to untidy habit.
Handle now tween thumb and finger,
regard askance with nose upturned.
Thrust into a dark interior,
caress with warm and foamy fluid.
Emerge bright and new to start again, lest...
one be lost and cause dismay.
For we all know that one's no good,
for a pair there must be two.
For foot feels wrong when it is placed,
naked in your walking shoe.

***