the Backs

The yards where we hide,

in shadow,

the unkempt mosaic

of living.

The waste bins -

sheltering

the accumulation of rejection;

announcing their presence

with squadrons of flies

and biting incense.

The washing -

limply dressing the gardens

having purged

the pollution of wear,

guilty by association

sentenced to hang.

Yet here, where weeds blossom,

romance, in early kisses

and clumsy embrace,

love

in apprenticeship

embarks.

‘The Backs’, in shadow,

where life is learned,

the hidden schoolrooms

where dolls are discarded

in the incubation

of dreams.