A-Muse-less Park

Photo by Jade


I'm a showground
unripe in untrod soil,
uncoloured by the watery brights,
that drip one night
for a year of light
before they jingle away for their respite.

I'm a ground that for three long breaths,
calls for wonder under skies,
captures gasps of delight
and turns them inside out for sighs
for three whole nights a year.

I'm a sparkling park and people rush to fill me,

But generally through the long seconds that time deals with one space day space and two dead nights and fourteen beats of silence in an echo of what might be nice,

I'm a barren ground where hobos lie down
and young lovers once a month escape
to blow warm air on my cold belows.