I waded to the middle of the river and was swept along, searching, searching. I was high in the air but tumbling downward trying to catch you. I stared at the screen until my eyes were dry and sore. I ran down the street pushing past shoppers, over and over. I shouted, screamed, shouted. I turned the key in the lock but the lock fell to the ground so I picked it up and it fell to the ground again and again. Every time I asked for peace a clock clanged the hour. Every time I saw you I awoke.
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 View more posts