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…
Will on Nairn | |
Joyce Kopp on Nairn | |
Vikingr | Will Vigar on Lullaby | |
Pulsar | Will Vigar on Stanlow | |
![]() | Pulsar – I Bet… on Stanlow |
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