the neighbour’s house

By | 1 August 2015

nested in a shout of starlings and cutty grass.
she had no windows until her husband died
and the tree fellas came and cut sunlight
in front of muddy glass.

perhaps it was the trees and their promise
of everlasting privacy that had tempted
darkness.

perhaps it was the birds and their dare
to be shown up that made her call in the
chainsaws and their men.

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