Solstice – a poem

Published in Hearing AidJuly 2018.

 

Solstice 

 

Backwards clock: lost midnight, seven

slipped into six and a cider-sun dawn.

Sunday spread its sticky glaze, an orchard

of longing holding onto the g

so it was long ging like a slug

from a Lilt can, crinkled

around the edges of a single use barbeque

burning in sand dunes and samphire reeds

until a foxtail flashed, and snuck back

into the fleeting catacombs of dusk.

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