there is an old bunker we've often walked past.

Robinson, Matt

there is an old bunker we've often walked past --Point Pleasant Park, Halifax and we know mistakes, no doubt, have been made. keys misplaced; vows bent, and then broken, error's often compounded, we know. but this: this just has to be the last mortgage of outrageous beauty come, finally, unavoidably due. come undone, the drab, dun 3-2-1 of this old bunker's concrete is punch-drunk and scurvied; all slumptumbled-cum-crumbled about; a gravelled antipathy fallen in on itself, toothless recrimination, its door's breath's all cold-coffeed: rusted hinge and stale piss. but on each morning walk, on each grudging dawn jog, we concede--we can't miss--the stark, simple fact of this very junked tonnage at all, its prosaic avowal of the weathers of burden, how it's stayed, how it stays; diminished, no doubt, but still, staid.