Toward the old Friarage

Council workers tending to trees.

The question put: what kind?

Aspens, he thinks. Council Aspens. Trying to grow. 

Because no trees grow. Then a narrative.

Out of place here but offered.

So as to register the memory.

Before I forget. Easy done.

Eyes blur

Cyclopentolate. Dilation of the iris.

Bilateral acute anterior uveitis. 

The witch swung from the  gibbet.

But before last words offered: No tree will grow here.

All this. Before living memory.

Then. Later.

Folklore scrolling:

                                Aspens terminate a curse.

Council in the know.

Or special forces at work.

Insane in the brain.

Stag Island.

In the garden

Parched grass

Gasping roots.

Cracking silence, save the gusts

And the tinnitis.

Swinging in the frequency.

Tongue lols.

Lol.