The Daylight Raid

Anna Conway, Contributor. 

In this distance, a

man looks as if he is

made up of other men

who are made of smoke

In this distance, the sky

ends where the air looks

at the rag of heaven

In this distance, the footpath

gets as close to hell as it can

with a swollen black vein and

burning red man

In this distance, the doors

are shut, always and

covered in a bright black tar

repainted every hour by the sweat

from the workers

the walkers the

fuckers who don’t know the difference

between a slap and a song

In this distance, eyes don’t exist.

In this distance, the most

disgusting thing is a kiss –

the blinking that pulls away

sight in this daylight raid,

the long way out

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