Will Vigar

A Writer of Sorts



The remnants, ground down,

were used as hardcore

for roads, built to prop up

shiny new tram lines

that would rush people

past the ‘dozer razed

haunt, with a nonchalant

hum. And parts were

harvested, while no one

watched, to be sold

as souvenirs or ‘the perfect

solution for your rock garden’.

The rest, unloved, hides

in a landfill site

in Beighton.


I dreamed of the rubble

as cemented seeds

in an unkempt allotment,

waiting for the right

conditions -in a far future

spring – to rise again.


From the first tentative

sprouts of bungalow,

to the thin foliage

of a sapling maisonette.

The thick forest luxury

of expensively clad

executive apartments

and finally, their blossoming

into luscious, fecund

deck access flats.


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