Suburbia barricades itself for the night,
doors bolt-tight. I walk the quiet street till -
a quiet scuffling. Under the lamplight
a badger, Bristol’s wild boar.
I pause, watching it; it pauses, watching me.
But I’m a distraction. On hungry business
It barrels off into the shrubby blackness.
In this partitioned, party-fenced, property-owned
‘paradise’ (Sneyd Park) I ask, “Whose the intruder?”
With your spade claws, you dug your domesticity
deep before ape-armed man raised stone on stone.
But we have the house deeds.
Equality, mutual respect? If we get TB we cure it;
if you get TB we kill you. But here you assert
your living. At this midnight, momentarily we met
and I ask, “Which of us is the anomaly?”