Her head low
and eyes
fixed on mine.
Loping from floe
to sea to dolerite
schist; crackling
on the lime
rich shore;
following stale
musk. Per shakes
my shoulder
and readies his
Ruger. ‘We should
leave’ he says
and I become
aware that we
are being
hunted…
Maggie on Dudley and Eunice | |
![]() | Rockall Mugs | Will… on It’s Pissing Down On… |
![]() | Peak 3 (Stillborn) |… on Alderley Edge |
erroneouschoices on Brittle (for Greg) | |
hana on Succotash |
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