You’re decades older, still completely hot,
making some boots. The artificial light
makes your skin satin. In your blog you’ll write
that you reread my sonnets. This is what
you’ll say ‘Roz Kaveney had me as her Muse.’
Your employees will wake up and say wow
when they read this, and think ‘the lucky cow’
really impressed. Then go on stitching shoes.
I’ll be long gone, and taught in the best schools.
Famous for all the good that that will do.
You’ll let a tear splash on a Jimmy Choo
Make sure it doesn’t rust your cutting tools,
and go on being happy. All those years
you’ll have; my verse is grateful for your tears.