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