the last park
by Hannah Ledlie
the gardeners enter the woodland
with the careful joy of divers
descending into an aquarium
for feeding time
it is a duty and an honour
to tend to delicate things
and there is nothing more delicate now
than oak
and birch
and grass
the perspex around the woodland
is smudged
from children’s sticky hands
and the hot breath of gaping
even grownups are entranced
by the faceless hazmat heroes
they carry water tanks on their backs
and keep to the paths
which weave
between the trees like
dry rivers
between the green
green
the colour of
envy of
children’s hands
on perspex
and dreams of
smashed glass
green
like nothing
green
like
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