Michael McFarland

everything she ever got; she recovered from childhood illnesses fled away from her falls, breaks, bruises, twists, cuts, bites, stings; …

It didn’t matter the sky was cloudy, or that the cafes were closed. It didn’t matter no one spoke to …

… once a couple lived here farmed the land; a veg garden kept some hens, some beasts they fed rabbits, …

there will be time five of us agreed when lockdowns cease to pen that soliloquy compose the odes script that …

those that never bled are lying dead under strange ceilings together in silence once they breathed loved hugged sang worked …