Four Poems

Every Place is Also Another

Clouds mount over the Midlands
– the clear day for walking you wanted
is gone. The power stations
cooling towers the windmills the oaks
the suburbs – this is Brexit territory,
this Remain.

                    One sees almost everything
from the window of a train.

The Bronze Age stone circle, the Nine Ladies,
the king stone some yards off –
no one knows what anything means
though we pay good money
and a licensing fee to hear.
You sit and vape on one of the nine.
A committee’s poisoned the intrusive
volunteers. A light rain. You scorn
...