Things I Have Dreamed of Since a Recent Birthday

Having lumbered back home with a dead white swan;

and, for it, being blamed and shunned;

not being served with tea and fruit scones

so waiting, hungry, at table all night long;

then the tea pot being drained before it came to me

and the jam pot being scraped all but empty;

a grey rabbit, ears pricked, silver on the frosted lawn.

What is the swan I may no longer ride

whose orange beak dangles and bobs;

and the the few pale crumbs on the empty plates 

of those who have already been served;

and the empty jam pot, turned on its head;

and the rabbit picked out by the moonlight;

and what is the talk that goes on and on

and buzzes like a blowfly winding down?