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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

a shield

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.