faceless children
mooch
past ferns, making
too much noise.
their feet like hands
on backwards bodies
clobber
the mouldy concrete
bricks
and kick
cobblestones
by accident.
they drift
towards
the tree-house,
their ears pulled
to the sky by spiderwire,
listening
for tapping.
fungus sprouts
from wood,
maggots from rotting
wound,
smelling like fatty gravy.
over the buttress,
dinosaur-bird pecks
at bumpy,
whitish
mass.
the children reach
with feet like raw flesh
towards mutilated wood.
“stop,” one child says,
standing
back, as if that’s
all it takes.