Thursday, February 25, 2016

#51 Kevin Brophy 'Estate, city outskirts'

There was a golf course here last year.
The weeds grew up almost instantly.
Rabbits replaced the dimpled urethane.
Snakes came, insects, grass goes seedy
As far as you can see from here.

Only the putting greens remain
As vaguely flattened crop circles.
Developers have bought the lot —
And the function room on the hill’s
Abandoned. The pond’s gone green.

Trees dried out, got sick and died,
You can see they’re full of rot.
Houses made of modern strife
Are coming in, we need them
Like every body needs a life.

You see us walking patient dogs
Or sitting on a log by the river
Where the young men row.
We don’t need much to live well here,
Automatic garage doors, morning fogs,

A modest keyring. No one needs a hole
In one out here. No king needs a crown.
The fat old moon is out, still unsold,
Still spilling light on the passing river,
Flashy as a lottery winner.

The old cold shadows stay further down.

The rabbits eat the weeds, they’re happy.

1 comment:

  1. I'm really enjoying this unfolding of place in your poems Kevin and look forward to the wry or sensitive insights.


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