Poem #2,146: Here will be houses

by Mike Bell 19 August 2021

Among moulting thistles & below lengthening shades formed by summer bloom [auld urges commissioned

by time] – it’s here I shelter from a deluge of showers – that pissing-off overhead – I could lie down [now] – go

native in this meadow – I’ll have no company & still be crowded out by memories [Leave ’em be – Michael] – I

will sleep well tonight with a dry stomach – count each blessing out – I was regaled with more horror stories – A

circular walk across land to be built upon [brick work & debts piled up] – This won’t relieve those auld recalls of

flirted-at tradesmen bent to hammering overhead – I will move away before this field is filled by tarmac – our new

ghost-estates – before I stay mired in this inbred town in need of distraction-fucks – I see wives lie with open-legs

& husbands strapped down by porn & alcohol – My walk will lead me back to where I left from & where I’ll depart

without reminders or reverb of too-long wed – to depart from grasses & ignorant ants to find my settled single bed