Poem: Memories of Glasgow

I step through a curtain

from light to darkness

inside, everything is dimmed

sounds are muffled

light is dappled

I walk on fallen leaves,

perpetually moist.

The pathway disappears underneath

roots and dead branches.

Through young trees flash glimpses

of giant metal structures

so sorely aware of their difference

from the earth

from alive things.

The ground squelches into mud

I walk over a thin plank of wood

teetering with my arms out.

On the other side

nettle brushes my coat.

The train tracks are close now

I wonder if anyone has died

down there.

Torn shirt impaled on

barbed wire fence,

faded and aged.

The house on the corner

always seems desolate

I can see into their lounge room window

yellow flowers grow

just below it.

Further up the path lives

a pair of forgotten work boots.

They have been here

longer than I have

they stay longer than I stay.



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