I read this diurnal opening line: the last
thing we need is another lovesong.
the old argument rises again.
a promise made on smoked glass.
my arms twist and my legs bend,
and I nearly amputate my homeland
standing in the too bright light of a midnight
McDonalds. I know I should not be here.
it is likely that I am drunk on something, but
fossil words stand fast against antiseptics and oil.
I think all at once: we must search for hope
but there is so much despair.
I still cannot figure out why
human life has lost its currency,
if crowds ever read signs,
do tyrants always win.
you go north, dappled and splintered,
your shadow thickens behind you
By SK Grout
SK Grout grew up in New Zealand, has lived in Germany and now splits her time as best she can between London and Auckland. She is the author of the micro chapbook “to be female is to be interrogated” (2018, the poetry annals). Her work also appears in Crannóg, Landfall, The Interpreter’s House, Banshee Lit, Parentheses Journal and elsewhere. Wanderlust, eco-living, social justice, queer love stories and writing remain priorities of her life. These topics fill most of her twittering at @indeskidge.