The Drop
It took a long time to fall, or else it took less than a second. The drop was thirty feet; gravity was acting on me at thirty-two feet per second squared. I can’t do the math but it’s obvious that . . .
Author Archives: David Harsent
The Long Walk to the End of the Garden
The rusty stain on the pillow, the rumble of pain
in his knee, impromptus of a dream in which
he hacked his way out again and again, the dawn
fading up from the green-blue-green of the silver birch,
a flourish . . .