socks from guernsey socks
of bristol ariadnes thread
is a whistle steam rising
higher than bi-planes arc

wool damp with mud-sweat
wedged into every second
parcel from home a rain
of letters withers a day

impossible stocks hatred
dreaming socks stitches
several strings a colour
electric as a rag picker

bundle stashed in moments
before a lightning flash
a grenade guards the exit
even the future is darned