A Walk in the Park
On the way to shopping
at Countdown I walk past
Countdown, continue
east until the road crosses
railway lines, beyond
an obsolete station.
I walk into the park, noting
the many monuments
and honourable mentions
not to mention the memories
of loved ones attached
to seats, thus to earth.
I avoid other walkers.
The path is old, water-worn.
I step carefully. The tree
whose branches rest
on ground, seem to take root
newly there, expand the space
the tree has colonised,
asks me to photograph
myself against a branch
as if inviting me to imagine
there is nowhere else
for a human being to be
alive or dead.
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