Iain Britton

Ghettos of Autumn


The priest


tells of the power of leaves


how they storm the ghettos of autumn



drop


like armies


parachuting further.

The person he is
has no distinguishing features
no identifiable tag.



He lives by the sea


covets                   the hunter


who shoots from the hip


skins thoughts to the bone
scatters them loosely.


Autumn collects suntraps
                 for the burning.