Collections

The forest offers bricks, if you know where to look.

You can brush off the mulch and gather them

bring them home and build a wall

for the papers to write about.

Take bottles from the earth

and make them gleam.

Up past the road and flooded rugby ground

the pub closed down, opened up again.

Someone brought a barrow for the fox

found under the honeysuckle

its purple meat heaped

like cattle packed wall-tight

eyes rolled white as they wait.

On the lane, I settle by a hedge

and recognise the smell.