Michael Egan


bottle necked   squeezed tight into a suit
if by holding this position
broken hedgerow   encroaching
speckled tarmac

all the armies of the east
would fall back   pulped into sand
for preservation   a marmalade of nations
with each cut of that once ripe fruit

                                              individual structure

that faint and tuneless
beat called solitude
an anti-prison    lessens
all along the hedge there are wider gaps

                                              broken by hands and blades
                                              yet some are planted to give way