Full Scottish Breakfast
by Graham Fulton


On a useless morning
pudding is cooking
egg is scrambling
I think

of blue speckled eggs
I stole from a hedge
in the palm of my hand

of stretching     today
across the stump of a tree
with my face up
my eyes closed
my tie whipped
across my shoulder as I try
to put it all back     throw it
all back
on a useless morning
bacon is sizzling rings on the stump
turn back to nowhere     now
here     nearby
I think

of summer lawnmower grass
of spinning in sun till I fall
of a knife of apple stuck in my throat

the wind whooshing across my eyes
eggs whooshing around my brain
the first rain
on my skin
as I stretch around my head
and no-one else is anywhere
else     it's me     devouring
the eggs the skin
the breakfast the rings
on a useless morning
toast is burning     nearby
I think

of golliwog badges and goldfish bags
of musical boxes getting slower
and slower
of wasps dying in raspberry jam

soft cobwebs
like a caul
caressing around my face
on a useless morning
with the rain or the sun or the eggs
on an all day morning
the porridge is bubbling
web is caressing
head is frying
nearby     I try
to pull it all out     throw it
all back in to where
the rings turn back to nowhere
else     the first blister
of skin
on my rain


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