Stanlake Meadows
¶ 1
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I can’t remember if around this pitch
kite feathers drift across the scrubland,
but two men with an Alsatian
walk the perimeter, searching.
¶ 2
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It isn’t safe for children, this public facility,
with ‘Danger of Death’ behind one goal
and a fence entangled in the other.
¶ 3
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I can’t remember when potholes became sinkholes,
when mud and clay subsided with the tyres
navigating rocks in the lane by the skate park
and men with an Alsatian, searching.
¶ 4
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We gravitate to grass, leave
this pylon-shadowed siding
to return in twilight.
¶ 5
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Boys light fireworks.
A pristine ground is under lock and key beside us.
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