When fleeing was it
by Simon Brown
Even to this
naked bungalow
you say bungalow
through red door fleeing
slowly
by protesting edge and over
and small and falling with
speakers of red plastic
earnestly we mouth bungalow
sharing you wall to wall for
no broth on us to spill
and even through
hard glass you say hard glass
and cushioning the soft broth of
soft loins and supping
you cushion broth and crumbs
and we are accustomed to this soft
of no consequence
and even by soft brushes
you say soft brush
with vigour softly brushing off
to three bodies belonging
you brush
onto planes of broth
with no pace slowed
and with no weight
this idea of fleeing
Simon Brown
Contributing Author
Other works on The Blasted Tree:
Featured by The Blasted Tree: March 9, 2018
When fleeing was it by Simon Brown is a Blasted Tree original poem