Afterbirth: a walk in the park
Summer and the road's tar rhizomes tangle up
with plantain's root stout like a brown betty
its broad rosettes and long brown and mustard spears
spit-polished by the morning's rain
inside the park
the clover that marched across the meadow
a month ago is now so done dun and dry
as if the season has held a cupped hand
and a match to every pinked pollen-heavy head
further in the reintroduced grasses
presenting rapunzel rope ladders under the veil of soil
swaying heads above
screen white cabbage moths wasps
from the middle distance
and the centre of your wet
howl