Your comments on 'Water Butt' have been beyond my expectations helpful. I now know I need to put some serious thought into the first verse, so I have written it up on my wall
together with a tentative alternative, so that I have to look at it.
Meanwhile here is another:
Head in a spread-sheet you put
her electric kettle on the hob, lit
the flame and moved away.
Unseen fibres bubbled and oozed
out across the stove top
like road-tar in a heatwave.
The element didn't pop
like a firework on the fourth of July, or burst
like a water-main on a a summer day,
but split like a twig
in a well trod wood.