Late News

Every night, it seeps from our neighbors’ bedroom below,
rising between thin sheet rock and pine into our closet—
erectile dysfunction, breast cancer, SUV's upended,
the doom of saturated fats. All this exhaust after a day
on the links, they must be sitting in bed, sipping brandy;
an unhooded monk immolating himself on their orange-
tinted screen, their feet sore, the arc of the golf ball
like the tip of a finger moving along a misted window
toward the end of the frame.

John Allman | Mudlark No. 31
Contents | Reading Gerard Manley Hopkins