2 February 2025
11 July 2025
submitted to Night Picnic Press 11 July 2025
a neighbour starts their car
plausible cities expand in a vacuum policed by warriors of being
vaporised moments
the way we think things are
heralds with eyes wide open but no light coming in at vanished stations
finger trumpets
and press them to their lips
there is a frost tonight the torn earth turns to stone
undernourished by forecasts
the device masquerades as sound
bird calls burn lightning to a laugh they scrawl your skin then vanish
no trace of sense remains
the car is gone