Ode to Berwick

(How came I to Berwick?)

The birds live side by side, here, with us, the plants shrink from our touch, the little creek, buried, ‘neath green ruins, is like we’re already dead

In Berwick suburbia used to be so normal we’d complain about the eye-sore tanks, water flowed anticlockwise, same as every other water

And she was in a doorway trying to look bored

But then, someone slightly twisted a knife (who or when? Which way where? And why?) Ever so slightly, seemed not noticed (or known)

And Berwick, I’m in love

Berwick’s suburbia was stunned, now flipped from a bridge, villagers push jesus like heroin, while they throw their kids to ruin before themselves

And it’s her I’m here for

Seems your faerie spirit is walking past us, Berwick, in a bad dream, dodged something, and we acquired a knife, ourselves, and can we return to you, Berwick, when its as if we’ve severed from our own hearts?

And cannot begin to unveil her

(And everywhere it’s the same)