Buddleia does well here, at least.
It thrives on flowers of sulphur, concrete dust,
coiled sward and radon’s heavy bloom.
No wonder the petals gleam the utter blue
of a welder’s flame. No wonder the blossom
rusts so easily, a shiver in the grass-chocked guttering.
In summer, butterflies briefly linger here,
all the colours of ash and earth and blood.
See how they diminish towards cloud and light
as their fragile clockwork unwinds through
the onshore wind, high over the dual carriageway
and corner shops, towards the hills