shadows migrate towards the fence-line
with its shredded plastic fluttering
like the rage of those denied escape
they are the formless ones faceless familiars
hidden in vaguely remembered conversations
who look away when approached like dogs
who have given up on the crunch of gravel
and live with that abandonment
they are the prisoners of history who made the count
missing are the rootless ones who withered
the stony ones who gazed so long
at the perfectly ordered grains of sand in mortar
they became absorbed into the joints of the asylum wall
and the clumsy ones who tried to forget the past
but became immune to the present
it’s the drawback of being a stranger to yourself
without the shadows of the past
we are like babies blinded by the light
i have seen them also in their cities
emerging at lunchtime like hermit crabs
soft-skinned creatures nervously scuttling for food
bearing plastic coffee cups withdrawing into them
when they sense the shadow of a circling gull or stalking crow
they are perfectly camouflaged amongst the human debris
but when time is up they take a risk and scuttle back
wary all afternoon they won’t become prey
to the clownfish the pufferfish and the king crabs
who rule their shared work space
they think the answer lies beyond the fence
beyond the top floor the city limits the asylum wall
my watch tower is a bed with tangled sheets and vivid dreams
eyes closed my own shadow leads the charge
eyes open i tell them there are no shadows on the other side
