The maze, by John Porter

First the square was taped off

as they unloaded hedges

and everyone worked getting lost

into their day.

But routes through changed

and we had to step over bodies

of forgotten councillors

as voices of staff from high street shops

howled at another dead end.

I sprinkled rice to mark a trail but

after a year found kids

shoveling it down their throats,

salt fared better

until everyone started doing the same

and a mountain grew. From the top

I could see the maze was wriggling,

finding new twists

as far away as the sea.

 

Published 17th December 2018

 

About John Porter

John Porter’s poems have been published in The Screaming Fly , Prole, Streetcake, Snakeskin, Pulp Poets Press and Morphrog. He lives in Gloucestershire, UK, after previous stints in London and Moscow. He usually writes on trains or whilst waiting for children to fall asleep.

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