It took a good year after moving in
to the new house before they finally
tackled the garden, one weekend
following a month of escalating
boredom and bickering. So they hired a skip,
borrowed a scythe and a strimmer, and soon
the nettles, thistles, bindweed and ragwort
were obliterated, revealing the earth
speckled with bricks and half-bricks.
They shuffled through the stubble, picking
out each brick, along with tiny
plastic guns, the torn skirts
of dolls, Matchbox Ferraris and Minis.

But before they could dig out the deepest roots,
level it, lay down grass seed, buy
a mower, she'd got a better job
which took her to Bristol Monday to Friday,
and when he was home he began on the bottled
beer and struggled to get the crossword
three-quarters done. All the while,
the nettles were coming back taller than ever
while bindweed spiralled and strangled, unseen.
But what they couldn't understand
was how the bricks got strewn, again.

The Cough