I got round the back path through the woods
ignoring dumped mattresses and bags of junk
river down the slope pat-a-cake gypsy
sold-for-coppers promises
You keep the sun top centre
watch shadows and highlights
but still the chatter starts
it steals everything, all you trust
and chucks it
You will always obey
A squabble in the bushes
birds are fighting
blood in my legs goes solid
I must sleep
with nectar
give up
this is too long now, way past hope
way beyond refusing to be pushed
round the bend
wind cuts up from the valley
an old accordion plays singalong
swirling skirts and puffy chests
the bliss he remembers is a recall
memory reflected kaleidoscopically
blood of pages
chains dragging
she eats popcorn
watching
laughs a little
they cut steps into the bank
clunking knee gripes edged with green oak
down past castell limestone
granite and flint
cold mud waist to village
god, burn the village