Between trains, I kill an hour

with 70s ceramic coffee pots

and Scott Walker LPs

while Doris Day, in clip-on earrings,

is innocent, on a loop.

I try on buttoned evening gloves

and plunge my hand in mink.

When did I start sleeping with the light on?

Out on the headland, from the train, a boat full of rain.

Vona Groarke's Selected Poems was recently published by Gallery Press