Storm

At midnight the weather breaks, The sky tears apart at the seams, Ripping beneath a knife-slash of light. (inside, beneath a white sheet for the humidity of the summer night, she wakes) This is the witching hour; This is when cats sniff the air with wide eyes And twine their…

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Tholtans of Mann

There’s a particular place in the Isle of Man; an endless avenue of fuchsia trees, which in most seasons is like any other country lane, but in summer becomes a tunnel of purple and pink flowers. The scent of them saturates the air. At the end of this lane is…

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Lament For Poseidon

the sea flicks idle hands up to the rocks the empty sea the tomb of the sea; clear to the shallows some weed, some fish some boats. a salt spray touches skin, touches lips its taste like fish. the wet rock, the dry the crabs in pools the islands mark…

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