Tracks make their mark across the heath
Fractured trees bleeding in the wind
Life ran away to find another place
No heartbeat here
Scars of an untrained surgeon
Show their slicings on the land
Where sandy belly spews right out
Uncauterized and left to drain
Petrol paints the pools where robins used to drink
Iridescent purple, yellow, green, not pure
And only pretty ‘til they wade
Then sticks and burns and chokes
What is your fate where rabbits used to play?
Housing, industry come make your claim
Human progress makes a stand
No heartbeat here
© Jayne Downing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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