Playground

dark brown eyes
scanning dusty tarmac
a boy on a swing

head down
mouth humming
a boy swinging intensely

before dusk he must go
to his grandmother’s house
on the edge of the city

alone on a swing
thinking on a swing
a boy

his mother will stay home
she won’t go to the shelter
people here are afraid of shelters
they remember last time

the chains of the swing
they clank they screak
the boy’s head fills
with explosions

a boy on a swing

Adrian Mitchell

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About handshedown

Keighley Perkins is a Cardiff-based poet whose influences include Anis Mojgani, Selima Hill and Richard Brautigan. Her work has previously been published in "Acumen", "Elbow Room", "Erbacce", "Fire", "Northwind" and "Obsessed with Pipework". She can also be found online on Twitter at @handshedown. View all posts by handshedown

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