Waste ground sacrament

The mouth
of childhood
is laughter, liquorice dark

Teeth stained long after
you spit it out

The aniseed taste of droning dragonflies 
over the scry and gravel heat
of waste ground

Iron where you bit your cheek

A sting

The twisty shape
        and thick
             as mudded rope

Barbed wire and glowing jimson weed
in caduceus tangling

Step heavily

lift your feet