A Poem

I lift the A up off the title and stick it into the white ground of the page. A one step stepladder. I climb up onto it and look out onto the landscape of the page. The pen planting seeds as it moves from left to write like a muck spreader filled with ink. I watch as the tractor moves further away leaving seeds planted, that can only flower when fertilised by human eyes. An s becomes a miniature river and full stops act as wells that sentences fall into. I climb down off the A and go and get some lunch.