Almost Certain We Are Here

The rhythm insistent, set by the oars dipping and sweeping the grey. Fingers,
tendrils, a seaweed of mists easing the hull onto shore. Sand and shingle, skindistinguishable, barefoot whispers, soles exposed, first hand, second hand, we find the way onto the headland.

Weary, at the top of the hill, we seek sanctuary in coarse confines, rough edges smooth enclose us. Rafters, stone, brick, essentials. Solid. Real. Almost certain we are here. Looking past me through the night black glass, red lights twitch descent beyond the high-rise, the whole town darkened, except here, in the yellow glow, where the light gets in…

Where The Light Gets In
7 Rostron Brow

November 2016

This entry was posted in Anti-reviews, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s