Thursday 30 July 2015

One Two Three, by Michael Loughran

One Two Three, by Michael Loughran

The future is treebound in its iron feathers, lazy, possibly indigenous, mute as a roach and as scampery, so I pick up your sunglasses and put them down, I’m enthusiastic about sunglasses and saying your name in full— the high river in me would take a chainsaw to every tree and that’s the part that belongs to you.
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