there is always a hill
in a mental asylum town
the ha-ha wall
and the poor fools it protects
and embraces within fine examples
of long-outdated architecture
perches concealed
from the gaze
of the good citizens
resident down below
for unlike the near-normal presence
of convicted criminals
in the prison near the centre
of the township
insanity is unsightly
frightening in the nakedness it reveals
and there is just a possibility
of contagion
atop the hill and behind the wall
and out of averted sight it lies
camouflaged by green acres
of gardens carefully tended
and flourishing farmland
for the production
of vegetables milk and meat
hidden away despite the prosperity
that a thousand lost souls
living inside have ensured
for the past present and future
of the town’s folk
who depend on this location of insanity
to earn
or to steal
their daily bread and butter
and it is here
that a young child’s mother
will be shown how to be a ward assistant
and here that his father
will become a kitchen hand in the mess room
and learn to be a victorian public servant
it is here that the daily journey
to the inside of the ha-ha wall
above the town
begins
~