We might do this,
go out through the city’s
diminishing suburbs,
apartment blocks,
industrial estates,
the slip-roads,
human tarmac envelope,
and keep going until
we’re pulling over
in some lay-by
and crunching steps
along a gravel path
which narrows
and then gives out.
We might do this
and track a way
through trees,
the ardent foliage,
gnats clouding
liminal sunlight,
to the limit
of a glaucous lake
and my offering to
row out to where
we’ll be sat above
the viscid spaces
into which fish
and uncertainties glide.
