Poetry from NHI publications
In the asylum on a winter's night|
pale crickets cheep among the heating pipes.
Now is the slow time of stones,
their hot creation and cold erosion
where a beetle can plod on
through dry leaf litter under dry cracking trees.
Along squeaking asylum corridors
in boxed ceiling conduits,
among looped colour-coded cables,
unseen crickets cheep.
The echoes are quick and sibilant,
As if here there wasn't,
New Hope International Writing Vol.16 #3
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This page last updated: 13th October 2008.