Half Hearted

In the midst of destruction.  On a modern site of deconstruction,Council owned

and government disowned, it goes unclaimed and feral. amongst the junk,

the papers the cans, the empty trays of spray tan, the used

condoms and spent dreams, there grows a single rose.


Planted as a screen, to cover that which it grows

upon, a trellis. That then became buried under

a child pram, a broken cupboard full of used

pots and pans and a vacuum leaning against

a hairless broom until there seemed no room

for it to live


but still its

wine shoots loop up from roots buried deep

amongst the heaps of garbage. Climbing bravely

towards light. They will struggle from March to May

so their flower and seed Will have their day to bask in the

glow of sun and so absorb her vitality. In April the


municipality which has to date ignored, deplored and Explored

various ways of shrugging off the job finally move the trash, uproot

the rose and so it goes. It’s a tale about a tail, a cat’s tail or a dilemma if you

please. The moral is that no matter how hard you try to grow, no matter how far you

go there will always be a bureaucrat, a Brussels rat or a civil servant ready to undo your effort.


The Shape of the vacant space is Half a Heart. Draw your own conclusions 🙂

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