The Weight of Suicide

Andrew C. Brown

Brambles scream to an angry sky,
piles of debris
are free to love

stripped stolen motorbike here,
scorned forlorn unicorn there
randomly scattered toys,
their faces
full of memory
the colour of ashes.

Welcome to the Northern Slopes of Knowles West
a haven of mishmash urban countryside
flourishing in wild abandonment;
dying flowers scowl
around the tree that bore
the weight of suicide

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