BENCHED

BENCHED

I headed up the hill before dawn

To sit at my usual tranquil spot

My occasional morning bench

Only this time a mourning bench

With someone’s leftover cigarette

Break detritus scattered around

One empty silver and black packet,

Alongside a discarded dog-end,

Plus two empty tobacco wrappers

Quietly I took their photograph

To share with the world at large

Finding the composition pleasing

A short time later I was asked

A quite reasonable question

Did you pick the litter up?

Which is a perfectly sensible ask

Given my implied vexation

And the fact that I did not

We could get into the philosophy

Of the aesthetics of found objects

In composition and all that,

Or the ethics of whether leaving

Someone else's litter makes you

Just as culpable as they were

But, perhaps, in the end,

It becomes a question of

Where does it end once you start?

And whether I wanted my pockets

Stuffed full of somebody else's

Old discarded fag packets...?

For the moment, however

I sat down upon the morning bench

Amongst memories of someone’s pause

And took a photograph of the view

Called Valley View with dropped

Salt and Vinegar Hula Hoop Packet

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016