the red hole on the tips
a boundary of exploration
stretched as thin as daring went
slither-foot across the tips
the tips
going across to the tips mum
leant us time to explore things
things
like the series of tar dumped humps
not worth a thought but worth
an undulation of a run to somewhere
across the scrub on either path
around the red hole
that red brick built castellated circle
where each had a seat designated
around the jump down where a gun was
in the war we intoned as one
subterranean wide-eyed smoked out bravado
in the room of a fire’s dare do
that often didn’t do
go on you try it and see
travelled around the red hole
there were paths down the other side
that shifted with the deceit of a serpent
stoned dead in the memory that mapped
our tips
slag stones and ashes built their history
an spat out broken shards of marmalade jars
and stoneware from the midden earth
that placed us somewhere on the timeline
where we hung our adventures
and ran
back along the getting there
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