Poetry
Fat Rats
Pandemic Verse (2) the place which saved me from the horrors and anxiety of our time
‘ … where the trees stop the sky from falling …’
here where the trees stop the sky from falling
and crows clatter their claws on grey stones stooped in ivy
anonymous names slide into history
their dates as dry as the forgotten bones beneath.
yet here is peace
for the dust feeding the grass
for the green flash of the parakeets climbing the chapel brickwork
and for the grey of the squirrel foraging an acorn at dusk.
the oak tree’s viridescent arms embrace all
roots twisting between the dead
whilst the fox forever chases their shadows
but feeds on the fat rats instead.
and so for the woman observing in silence nature flouts her fears
for beyond these cemetery walls the virus is taking history
from the hands of those who deserve it least.
but none will ever reach here.
for here
all things cease.
