An Atlas of the World’s Edges

Here is a map of               what you don’t see.

Here is the space        between the factory’s back wall

and the canal;                        here is the ribbon

of nature reserve             we speed past in our juggernauts.

This is the belt of trees                       holding in

the town’s gut.                 This is the pointless

gap in the trees                       where the boy and girl,

skiving Witnesses                         can kiss.

This is where old              supermarket trolleys

gather weed until someone               rings for rescue.

This is the roofless barn               where smokes are traded.

This is the drainage                            ditch that loiters

through our                      industrial estate,

where industry                             staggers on and on.

This is the path                                   behind the church

where our children                      go to drink cheap cider.

There are forgotten                                  tracks to link

all these places,          but the motorway

creates culs-de-sac                                   on both flanks.

I promised you a map,           but you knew

all along that it was there.           Choose a wall.

Take your spray cans.                        Make your own map.