The Garden

The garden grows as if it will live for ever

Humming bees under the winds of chaos

Flinging flowers into the air

Leaving leaves to hang there

Worming roots of the need for care

Silently screaming: “Weed me, seed me

Double dig me, love me, feed me!”

Suddenly one day in 1926

It grew a house of lime and bricks

To hold tame humans armed with sticks

And spades and forks and hoes

And plumbing

And it was good

The garden wanted more

It opened its legs, jocund and fecund

Bonked a passing rainstorm

And gave birth to a street

Semi-detached, perfectly matched

With gardens in its own image

Deeply complacent,

Looming loam and humping humus

The garden dreamed a long, gestatory dream

Gravid with grapes and gooseberries

Heavy with hollyhocks

Until Foof! Flam! Pinch me!

The garden created Finchley

Complete in every detail that you see

Including fake photos on the walls of Tescoes

Of what it looked like in 1893

Then the garden settled down for an eternity

Of middle-class suburban comfort

But away down, under the ground

The Gnostic Gods of Gnossos

(Not far from Knossos)

Searched under the Stygian depths

And Tartarean epths

And released from a dark, dark, dark, dark hole

A garden-guzzling creature

Who only wants to eat you

Whose fate is still to beat you

Who always will defeat you -

The blind, entropic mole...