Think of an interesting setting for a piece of writing – automatic writing for five minutes on trying to escape from this place  

By Aoife Mannix  

Summer has ended  

with sizzling lightning  

stark against the window.    

Cymbal of thunder   

followed by silence  

as the storm holds its breath  

before the gasp of rain  

roaring into gutters  

on to parched earth  

in the shock of drought.  

Military planes fly through   

the low, murky clouds  

of another question mark  

as we float in our bubble  

of Texas hold ‘em  

and the songs of gangsters.  

It is hard to breathe  

September’s sudden coolness.  

There was that one afternoon  

we walked along the river  

searching for a boat  

with the sand between our toes.  

And looking through a window  

at children playing in a garden.  

They say winter  

will be nuclear and cold.  

For Sale signs  

hanging over every refusal  

to admit goodbye.