A Doughnut Sends A Postcard Home

Something old I never finished editing that I forgot to post. maybe the beginning of a novel, I'm not sure.

I took your death out on a boy in a new Parka who smiled all wrong - the season you counted my saves match by match - the same year you scored twice from the half way line

There I was, not coming or going, trying to find a path through, on and through and into the old ways and see how it was before. And so stood useless...

...and what would they have to say for themselves?

Rooks Past the backbone’s second hump and hollow hawthorns, a foam of brackish snow and distant light. I heard them first, a row of hanging rooks –...