You are in the garden.
You ask him to take
the other end of the wet sheet.
You hold, he twists.

The water pours
on the crazy paving.
The weeds grow faster.
The woman from next door

strolls round the back,
ignoring him to give you
a huge bunch of folded
tea towel lilies.

You drop the sheet
in the dirt and kiss her.
Behind you, four elephants,
fig branches in their trunks,

hum The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba.
Their tablecloth wings
lift them over the house
and out of view.