The sweet trace of fodder
on the breeze, the acid
of spilled cider. Occasional cars
tearing up the air, like the invites
none of us had received.
I don’t even remember a house.
What signal set us heading out
to ooze like summer starlings
feeding on insects in the sky?
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Published by Daniel Bennett
I'm a writer and poet. My first novel, All the Dogs, appeared in 2008, and was described by Niall Griffiths as 'a stirring debut, a compellingly written tract on the importance of finding a place on the earth.' My fiction has appeared in London Noir, Crimewave, Black Static and 3AM. I live in London, where, amongst other things, I teach Creative Writing for the Open University. https://absenceclub.com
View all posts by Daniel Bennett