Guest Poem by Susan Mackervoy

Susan Mackervoy is a translator, writer and visual artist based in Cambridgeshire. She makes artist's books and ephemera as old highway press.

Community Wood, Evening

Let loose from his lead, the elegant dog,
though it is late and leaves murmur cautious

forest words in the compact modern wood,
speed-changing green to gold to winter black

as we look down from the path and traffic
pelts by, making thrumming beats on the bypass

concrete bridge with its dull metal capsules
(in each one a driver dreams or sings), the throng

of trees not a cage or frame but a broad
boxy instrument with strings, grey, silver,

lime, and he, zigzagging there, the tune –
as a valiant acrobat turns and turns

on the high trapeze, in the spotlight glare,
detailed, against the mighty weighted red

vague drapery of the great circus tent,
and spectators in shadows ooh and clap,

as air finds a way among broken leaves, makes
room for itself in humus and aerates seeds,

freely, in bounds succinct, decorous, swift,
as everything breathes, he leaps and he leaps.