Croquet Club at Lammas Park, Ealing

I have come now to my shorter years
to watch them on the croquet lawn
lean into deadly shots. I want to join this club,
learn how to play these metal hoops
through a needle’s eye, and acquire
all those very English tricks
to scatter my foes across chalky lines.

In the clubhouse, tongue-and-groove blisters paint.
On the notice board hang lunar charts
in fading pixel leagues, nameless names on croquet orbits.
Dapper Wendy explains the rules. Aged sixty-two, I feel the pressure –

young blood must save the day and renew this sacred croquet turf.