Four Poems
Lavinia Greenlaw, 8 March 2018
His wife has died, he is alone and so we follow him into the storm because he wants to take us out. Out where?There, he says as we turn each black corner, there.
A man in grief walking the empty centre of a Sunday-night small town caught up in the act of knowing where he’s going as we repeat the drenched streets.
He’s already got us running in circles as if we...





