Imagine the music

Jo is sleeping, his back up, his face down, his long legs stretching in a huge step forward, two small steps backwards,
One step forward, one step backwards.
(We used to play this game at home with other communist kids ‘Imparate, imparate cat e ceasu’?’- ‘Emperor, emperor, what’s the time?’ while mother was asleep. Her shift had finished that morning. We had to be quiet. All my country was quiet. We had to imagine how we’d played, how we’d laughed and had great fun, to imagine apples, oranges, bananas, chocolate. We had to imagine the music and how mother had bought us new clothes.)
I’m washing up the dishes trying to avoid unnecessary noises
Trying to wide open my eyes and see properly through the smoke
You might wake up
Where is the national pride coming from, and the memories, and the forks and the knives, and the pork pies and the red faced people?
Hihihi
The fence has a hole, the dog comes in
The car has a hole, the dog comes in
I cut the flower bulb in half and wrap it up with silver paper before I go to bed