for Oscar, on seven years at the department
Blood magnolia in the shade of one cold;
Warmer blue bay tipping into ocean now –
So knob-head grumpy-jaw pinkies flood the fold;
Declaring he doesn’t like gold anyhow –
Filigree pearl tiger snake teenage uncoils;
Yes, I too miss the grey more than I allow
And curse your early brown fly as he toils,
Try not to colour their over-vivid air,
Cleave to my trauma-green foliage as it spoils:
The hell of a summer that favours the fair
Still yields to the pasty ones alloy ciphers
Whose sadder eyes full of rainbows tip the chair.
Your sepia memories are for lifers
You bellow prism bright down the office.