Daniel Bennett





A road trip. That old saloon: deep blue
finned in a quaint English way,
more sea bass than marlin. No destination.
We were testing freedom, heading out

across the fen landscape, where aircraft
buzzed tree crowns and farm buildings
and tore away, stitching trails
across our temporary portion of sky.

What happened to make me retrieve that day
with such chunky accuracy? The bright cold,
the leather seats with their rigid stitching,
a car sick feeling of time’s vertigo.

No adventures or outrages, only a quiet sense
that our time was nearly spent. We stopped
by a limestone column, topped with a pineapple
an eminent Victorian’s idea of grandeur,

smoked in the blue air, talked. A cold kiss,
fingers meeting. A cord of vapour, dwindling.
Days lie sealed, evaporate when retrieved
and you stand by, breathing as they fade.



Daniel Bennett was born in Shropshire, and lives and works in London. His first collection West South North, North South Eastis published by The High Window Press. You can read more of his work online at https://absenceclub.com

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