on INDUSTRIAL COAST
on COMBAT RECORDINGS
on OPAL TAPES
today I walked up the hill to the old oak tree
i walked closely slowly
and buried my face in its thick bark
it smelled like resin and rain
hazy sun cut through the leaves while i moved my fingers across its shadows
like wielding a sword
the only way we move around these parts
on full alert
and always ready for battle
I slipped my shoes off and held them by the heel
hooked on my shaky fingers
and walked back down the hill
slowly digging my feet in the soft ground
tears rolling down my face
dropping on the ground like summer rain
i once knew this place inside out
like the back of my hands
and now i am lost
the path to the gate is blocked and overgrown with nettle and bramble and the ground is covered in litter.
i pick one by one the scraps the motherfuckers left behind
left without thought without care thrown all over the ground,
hanging from branches like cherries.
and as i put each in my mouth red drips down my chin and collects at the corners of my mouth.
If only you could see me now! I am holding as much as I can in the folds of my skirt, pinching each side with my fingertips, arms fully stretched. The skirt is raised off my legs and my bare thighs are showing... the skin so white and fragile it cracks like porcelain.