• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 01


The way the light in the eye
of the telly
shrank to a dot and died
far off
after “The Queen”
but before midnight
as if the room were turned off
just a slow tick
and the smell of warm plastic.

The way light in the eyes
of white rabbits
went out
as old Hunt
yanked their paws from their lugs
for my squeamish Grandad,
who’d turned his back
as they stood
among hutches
in his straw smelling yard.

The way the light in the eyes
of pheasants and partridges
as pairs, hung by their legs
outside a shop,
spotted the pavement



with blood
and fringed
with feathers
its colourful frontage.

The way the light
left my father’s face
as he lay at my feet,
when his heart
suddenly gave out,
leaving something internal
blocking his mouth,
and life fell away
like scaffolding
at a launch into space