A place to keep my shadow

I’m looking for a place to keep my shadow,
a hidden niche in urban countryside,
a place of tree and stream and muddy hollow
under the shade of branches, near the wry

neck of a twisting ditch, or some other
glitch in the landscape, a gnarl or notch or growth.
And… here’s a secret patch under the cover
of blackberry thorns, next to a hedge of sloe.

The arches of the bramble form a shrine.
A mould is growing on the overripe
final fruits. A briar draws a fine
line of red across my palm. The shape

my body borrows from the sun
is laid down gently near the waiting trees
stretching their penumbra towards the human
image sketched there in the dirt lee

of scrub. Lighter now and brighter faced
I walk away, knowing I’ve taken root
somewhere I needn’t visit, a safe place
graced with soft dark moulding fruit.