Armistice Day

A cold deserted carpark
two people here to flee the babbling hordes

Somewhere else, a smudge of collared saplings
nourished by muted water

Nothing stills the outside world:
clangoured factory catcalls beat the sky

But elsewhere, a wood is a resting place,
a stile a welcome notice

Cremation-red chimney flares,
torn to poppies by the wind, sear the blue

Somewhere else, a kingfisher: pure strung nerves,
tacks across from bank to bank

Unseen clock and calendar
eleven, eleven, eleven: now

But elsewhere, sly roots penetrate the mud
making time, making future

Two by sixty second breaths:
images of bodies turned to bodies

Somewhere else, a v-shaped buzzard circles
linking death to victory

Who can still remember them?
two many images; too few seconds

But elsewhere, branches thicken with the hours,
strengthening a memory

Unseen clock and calendar
eleven, eleven, eleven: gone

Somewhere else, the wood shivers in the wind
tatters its leaves to the air

A cold deserted carpark
two people turn, and disappear inside

And elsewhere, a silver birch is growing
down by the sluggish water