SHE IS LEAVING
This is the world she grew up in.
It has yellow walls and strong doors
and outside is a copse of trees.
The sandy earth is carpeted
with strawberries – their reds are flecked
as the iris is flecked. There is
moss here tumbling from the leaden
roof an evolution faulty for
human things. The leads have always
been too smooth. She remembers how
a child she used to slip climbing
in the wet air at the start of
autumn. She broke her arm never
climbed again. Picked mushrooms in
place of it found poison country
girls know to use a revolver
when faced with badgers at night but
they’ve stopped teaching belladonna
death caps and yew berries to all
but those who live in yellow houses.
The colour attracts the spores. In
summer the strawberries send out
runners under the earth to bud
breeding a revolution in
soil dark as water. The light is
changing and we draw her on we
set tempting lights between hills spark
fires between her ears. She knows she
has to travel never knew it
before yesterday the ship’s horn
caught her a hare in a snare. They’ve
been talking of evolution
her and him in the garden with
the mushrooms and firs and glowing
the pillarbox strawberries. It’s
personal he says it’s a way
of coming to terms with yourself.
He says but you need a gesture
out there. She says I’ll do it for you.
This is the world she grew up in.
It has yellow walls and strong doors
and outside is a copse of trees.
The sandy earth is carpeted
with strawberries – their reds are flecked
as the iris is flecked. There is
moss here tumbling from the leaden
roof an evolution faulty for
human things. The leads have always
been too smooth. She remembers how
a child she used to slip climbing
in the wet air at the start of
autumn. She broke her arm never
climbed again. Picked mushrooms in
place of it found poison country
girls know to use a revolver
when faced with badgers at night but
they’ve stopped teaching belladonna
death caps and yew berries to all
but those who live in yellow houses.
The colour attracts the spores. In
summer the strawberries send out
runners under the earth to bud
breeding a revolution in
soil dark as water. The light is
changing and we draw her on we
set tempting lights between hills spark
fires between her ears. She knows she
has to travel never knew it
before yesterday the ship’s horn
caught her a hare in a snare. They’ve
been talking of evolution
her and him in the garden with
the mushrooms and firs and glowing
the pillarbox strawberries. It’s
personal he says it’s a way
of coming to terms with yourself.
He says but you need a gesture
out there. She says I’ll do it for you.
