Tales From The Town #27: Poems In The Dirt

Oya leaves a new poem here every day. Beneath where the pictures used to hang, in the ash of obliterated art. If the wind and rain don’t wash the old ones away, a single brush of her boot does the rest.

She doesn’t mind that no one sees her words. The ephemerality of it all is the point. No-one suspects a thing.



1. Written between the 7th and the 10th of May, 2021


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