(at Kinlay House)
A chainsaw commencing. The grunting of boars. Death rattle in the trenches of Flanders. Grumble of a young man’s stomach in the early morn. Tyres rolling slowly on abrasive asphalt. A sound like charcoal getting crushed under a door.
Roar of thunder on a hot summer afternoon. Clatter of an old moped standing at the stoplight. Tearing a glued carpet off a concrete floor. A scree avalanche roaring down toward the valley. Somebody practising for a competition in snoring. A chainsaw at-rest.
Can you imagine now what kept me up all night?
(Published in The Wild Word, Issue 41, The Long Summer Nights, July 29, 2019)