Home was warm buttery potatoes

a thermometer under the tongue

Lucozade bubbling orange on the bedside table

cream of tomato soup after the doctor’s been.

A firework buying expedition

walking through chilly streets with dad

mum left at home.

In the shop Brocks’ boxes

blazing black and red and yellow

Jumping Jacks and Catherine Wheels

and Roman Candles

Mount Etna cones waiting for ignition.

Blue touch paper and the future

smell of gunpowder.

Next day hunting in the park for broken sticks

knowing they were the tails of comets.