Alchemisland

I’m at the place I think I’ve been called to

Blent-in like modest highlights, writ with ivy on the walls,

Signifiers and signs of as yet unlit fires

The tyre tracks of grand designs

Whose first-mind vehicles haven’t yet left the station

Behind the station the high wall

Using a bench’s armrest I reach the lip and desired elevation

Drag myself over despite flagging energies and disaster’s anticipation.