Garden – Ashley Poole

Pink, red, white, blink the rhododendrons

Like the flush of sunwarmed shoulders

As we clamber under the leaves into our own private fort

Amongst the foliage it is cool like an autumn breeze

And we can attend to the scratches gained in pursuit of this shelter

There’s three, across the back of my hand

Where I held the twigs back for you as you scrambled

They stop bleeding when I suck them

Turns my spit woody and pastel pink

Like the flowers beyond

We keep the dirt on our knees and palms as trophies

Our giggles break like sun through a cloud

Silver lining all around

We won’t be found here.