PoetryRepairShop -- Contemporary International Poetry 

That's quite enough for you to-night, my lad.
Can't you tell when you've finished the tin?
You know which cupboard they come from, right enough,
and sometimes seem to scent their brand and flavour.

And perhaps you've noticed where the empties go,
across the yard into their special bin,
though not of course where they get taken for recycling
by your humble servant, to the other side of town.

Not much between us, is there, Puss?
Each lays his doings in a garden of small certainties,
thinking his cupboard inexhaustible
and that engulfing darkness only waits for empty tins.

  (©1999 all rights retained by author)