trickles down the rotted brick
water as the blood of landscape
fills rivers and lakes and your head
into a vacuum of hesitation with the rest
of the unwanted deliberations pulled
into transport exchanges with enough
diesel to see the through to the final
stop, before retreat into a midnight
garage of old age where accumulations
of daily dirt are washed away and repairs
done so a day for profit is not missed,
until there are no replacement parts
but birds still twitter outside to attract
mates, defend territory, feed on worms
your decayed body faithfully provides.
The Wombwell Rainbow 