Saturday, 9 April 2016
April Poetry 2016/09
Rain patters on the curved corrugated iron
left over when dad dug out the Anderson shelter
We've made a den of it, me and the boy from down the road
with walls made from scavenged pallets
sheets of plastic thumb-tacked to the outside to keep the rain out.
In the spring we'll cover it in mud bricks
painted dry with lime and whitewash
with a window salvaged from the old cow shed
after Eddie Fowler burned it down
because he likes to watch the flames.
The rain drips in where the screws used to be
but we bodge them with plasticine
and light a fire in the hole
we scooped out with an empty peach can.
In our minds this is a palace in the making
but Dad wants his potato patch back.