#48 COLD COMFORT across sky filled flat fields, the mounds are burning
smoke stacks to the horizon, pourin’ out ‘n driiftin’
tree tunnels, pothole corridors, pinched upward by ditches there’s a sense of well being here despite the hardships metal tube chimneys held straight by cables
on the outskirts of town there’s vast red and white pillars there’s ducks on a rooftop
and more scaling some fencing
whilst plants are breaking out through some
tired greenhouse glazing
a shack with a roof, but no windows or doors in
ever waiting for someone to bring home the bacon boarded up, un-rendered, someone’s tumbleweed dreams solitary, stood stationary, left behind at the crossing
a distant tractor ploughs furrows that only it knows there’s little need here for the buildings WE know outside the air is frozen
in the threadbare car it’s stifling
the 2 lane road now as 4 they’re rebuilding
for the unions funds have started filtering in
the intersection lights, however, still change slowly while the trundling trams rattle by so lonely
round here they’ve painted all the once grey blocks
to help fast forward on the national clock
with advertising murals and primary colours
to tear them down maybe would be more obvious
to prevent the legacy of a once colder age
continuing to provide homes for the new generations no grand or elaborate designer gestures
no overtly designed interventions
of misplaced western
‘socially conscious’ masked motivations
but a simple move to make things better
amid this deep freezing snowy weather