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One morning beside the mushrooms

One morning beside the mushrooms
where the wildflowers no longer grow,
I found a dead cat.

Pink collar, stiff body, blood painted across its fur.

I carried the cat to the last of the elderflowers.
I told myself foxes can’t stand elderflowers.

I woke in the night,
a dream of a fox sipping elderflower cordial.

In the alley there are cats crying.
In the alley there is a wall breaking apart
with the weight of a lilac bush,
roots creeping between bricks.

Where the wildflowers no longer grow
there are mushrooms and foxes.

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About michaeleganpoetry

Liverpool based poet and editor. I have had four pamphlets of poetry published, most recently After Stikklestad (Knives, Forks and Spoons Press, 2010). Penned in the Margins published my first collection, Steak & Stations, in 2010.

One response to “One morning beside the mushrooms

  1. L. ⋅

    One of your best (so far)!

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