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MARGARET BRADSTOCK
Patrolling the balustrade for
rust
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- It forms when you’re not looking,
- gets a hold on your sleep
- subliminal as a marketing ploy,
- proactive as margarine.
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- Up here on the balcony
- you have a sentinel’s eye view
- of the falling leaves, clogged gutters,
- detritus of domesticity.
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- Burnt grass of summer
- spreads out to the mountains,
- giving the lie to autumn.
- A man is blowing leaves
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- off his corrugated iron rooftop
- to settle somewhere else
- in someone else’s yard,
- and you’ve got to believe:
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- relationships will founder,
- balconies crash to the ground.
- Be alert, for local dogs are barking,
- and remember
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- rust never sleeps.
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