I’m happy to grieve in plain sentences
while “the feelings”, acute and delicate ones
live in other poems penned by better poets
we knew it was a shit idea to begin with
yet like other ideas of such a nature
we let it be the scaffolding and the brick
even a little the mortar
whatever the cause, the lack of planning
permission or the absence of design at all
who cares – we were the kind of builders
who get shit done
things stood for the time they stood
and I don’t know if it’s a surprise
that bulldozing seems the easiest solution
any resident left occupying the house
at the appointed hour
can be considered fair game or just
a bit of blood and bone
ready to prepare the garden
