Single-parented most of the time, it’s a wonder
the ash trees come out of the forest, look around, heavy scene,
where I think it impossible to get lost
or make enough sense to pretend
how a child has to abort a missing parent
And the beer tasted perfect, like something he’d always dreamed of.
The swill, his faceless mother on a raft dropped into an icy vault
swallowed again and again, emerges in unnoticed tears
neither parent present at the same time, mostly alone
my foot falls on a bygone path
overgrown the bearded tree stump limping in the liquid air
complains as I molest its solitary watch.
In the clearing I found three boxes of
gas stained photographs
courage lost the matches fell
your smile cremated
colour seeps, morphing history into dank monsters to haunt the vaulted halls
             of my memory
searching stained sepias for the culprits, some likeness, some honour to this story
a story with so many unpredictable twist and turns, creating
in which i realise we are all single we are all parents
	abandoned like coral spawn to the elementals
of water, wind, earth, fire in the maternal hearth
	in a heart icier than the abyssal depths
	no way to trawl or dragnet love
There is no blood in a stone
no reassurance in these memories
so pick a corn crop
the right rock
an enviable predicament
feel free to go off the deep end (but take me with you)
note – notice
      notice – please read
      please place your shoes neatly
      at end of jetty
we are reviewing your multi-policy
for pike with three chickens coming home to roost.