At night
in the dreary park
empty swings

the roundabout on well-
greased gimbal manages
to budge a little

I tread the slight bounce
of reconstituted tyre
at the slide’s base

rakish boys and girls
sip from a single bottle
spark up a cigarette

they will not get very high on that
vigorous the winter breeze bites
soft rattle of chain

the grass is black
the private mulch
thick inside my head

beginning to decompose
as the dog trots me



Clive Donovan devotes himself full-time to poetry and has published in a wide variety of magazines including Acumen, Agenda, Fenland Poetry Journal, Ink Sweat and Tears, Poetry Salzburg Review, Prole, Sentinel Lit. Quarterly and Stand. He lives in Totnes, Devon, U.K. quite close to the river Dart. His debut collection, The Taste of Glass, is recently published by Cinnamon Press.