For F
Annafrieda – a Saxon lady –
found her dead lover [it is
said] & her tumbling tears
miraculously turned into a
muddied rising of waters –
funnelled for takers’ sups
from a chalybeate spring
[anointed – St Ann’s Well]
We let our two dogs drag
us past Annafrieda’s tears
& our guts sloshed [some
bars do not open Monday
in Hove] – Our tree-dotted
rise took us by busy roads –
Victoriana as rows – & via
rising paths to Preston Pk
& your home – I will allow
St Anne to pour iron & salt
into my open resolve – I’ll
then sup on your springs –
embrace such drownings
as I circle yesterday’s scour
of ex-lovers’ stains [guilt &
remorse dried their stream]