walking home from school
it was easter
nearly and the dead leaves-
well, you know dead leaves-

I was looking forward to surviving
the term when chocolate
and picaresque torture come out
of their hiding

places I remember how
one particular bush
in Larkhill Lane Park reminded me
of that Moses bloke-

i loved to sit inside its
spartan hollow shade
and reinvent god out
of his big black boots

but now it’s christmas
and the angels have set sail
for the sales that the baby
will be open

as soon as the cut-price massacre
moves on to other less blessed
pastures than Larkhill Lane Park
just before easter.