Cresting the rise I came upon brickworks

gashes of red powdered spent force

cascades of guts pushed back

to a stubbled hill

beyond that a dip, a bowl

grey, mottled probably for water

diversion and catchment

scoured piebald with weeds

where once water had poured in

reflections of sky now blinded.

 

I stood on the lipless rim

marvelled at the quiet desolation

pinned down by the wind booming

like the voices of Gods abandoned.

 

Youth in its restless quest for diversion

had brought skateboards

for careening daring the concrete

and the BMX too had come

with the challenge of ancient Rome

 

in the amphitheatre, skulls at risk of cracking

and a stunted tree had trapped itself

like a crooked sword plunged up

out of the elephant skin

lancing the fretting air.

I watched as the fruits of dead potential

ignored the sweeping wind.