I’m going to stop.
I’m going to start again.
I’m going to make strategic little piles
of things like cigarettes and sugar-cubes,
and bantams’ eggs, and cubes of cattle-cake,
and range them, along your route,
until you notice them;
and then I’m going to balance
slightly larger things,
like fish, or fruit, or tulips, on my head,
whispering as I walk: Speak to me;
whispering Speak to me please.
– Selima Hill