The jungle

The day it all went wrong
became to much
enough to flee the house
he decamped to the jungle
backpack stuffed with papers
dirty grey bandana
and a new American accent

At dusk, dirt-faced and cagey
he patrols the bandstand
scouts ornamental ponds
checks the great stone lion
for booby traps
pits with sharpened stakes
snipers in the trees

Published by colinhopkirk

Poet, writer, artist. Writing and performing in England, publishing anywhere. Member of Hexameter performing poets. Workshops, projects, cross-arts collaborations.

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