Allotment Poem by GRANT FRASER

The shed
was absolutely rotten
so we tore it down,

with sledge hammers
and crow bars,
claw hammers!

I straddled both
sides of the rotten rusty
corregate,
and wrenched whole
screws out,
some heads
just split, completely...

we demolished,
trashed, and thrashed away,

fumbling it into
the back of the black warrior,
(borrowed) ,
and dumped it at recycle,

with deep scratches,
on our legs and fore arms,

I could've cried
I could have...
at some point,
tried more....

bit like trying to tear out,
that thing in your soul...

whole,

(if only Ha!)

fragmentary, on a high,
that a part of you somehow,
cannot surpass itself,

and the heart wrenches
you out of the ground...