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.