Friday, 13 September 2019

Like a Blade

There were parts of the city that were pure blocks of darkness,
where light would slip in like a blade to nick it, carve it open ;
a thin stiletto, then a spill of white ; the diagonal gash
of a shadow, shearing ; the jagged angle sliding over itself
to close ; the flick-knife of a watchman's torch, the long gasp
of headlights from nowhere, their yawning light - then
just as quickly
their fading away ;
closed over, swallowed
by the oiled, engraining, leaden dark
Robin Robertson
excerpt from
The Long Take


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