100-Word Fiction: ‘Curfews’

What are we
If the oncoming silences
Sweep in early to
Mute us even now?
And what if the stories we float
Are jetsam for the tide?
What prospect is a journey
When we cannot believe it ourselves?
And where do we get
If all the yards of days
Are dismantled by dusk
To bridge the way back home?

[The sounding of the curlew curfew / (This, always the sign) / Finds the search for meaning ended / Now friends only nod in hasty greetings / Fleet and hassled, as lovers depart / Less longingly, more slingshot / Into the frozen yawning dawn / Of our numbed tomorrows.]

Published by MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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