Without me – by Leontia Flynn

Once, in the hiatus of a difficult July,
down Eskra’s lorryless roads from sweet fuck all,
we were flinging – such young sophisticates – like a giant
          frisbee
this plastic lid of an old rat-poison bin.
 
We were flinging it from you to me, me to you, you to
          me;
me-you, you-me, me-you, you back again.
And you would have sworn that its flat arc was a
         pendulum,
compassing Tyrone’s prosy horizon.
 
And I would have sworn that our throw and catch had
         such momentum
that its rhythm might survive, somehow, without me.
 
 
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About dreapadoir

Emergency Physician, author of http://underneathEM.com Emergency Medicine blog, photographer at http://www.dreapadoir.com
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