THE SUBURBS OF FOLLY
OR CARE IN THE COMMUNITY
People new to the neighbourhood soon notice,
rising from one of the walled gardens
or the terraced yards, an occasional
bird call – wood pigeon or even cuckoo?
Distracted by the previous owners’ always
doubtful detritus, it takes them longer
to realise the sounds are human though
of indeterminate age and gender.
Exchanging a Victorian madhouse
for a gentrified Victorian suburb,
making ambiguous bird noises rather
than rocking to and fro in the urine-stink
must be better – but no less sad, no more
purposeful, still unconscionable.