‘The Gate’ by Afric McGlinchey

  The gate They need a context to eke out their distant echo, undisturbed by cities or freeways, some place desolate perhaps, where bones have settled well below earth, and bats hold on in the favoured dark, where a fox might bark; a place to find comfort among moth-coloured shapes in the unlit gloom, haunted by the passing of a stranger at a gate, its … Continue reading ‘The Gate’ by Afric McGlinchey