Article Title

THE HARBOUR

Authors

Alison Croggon

Abstract

Angel, how numb your shoulders are, how they sag with the burden of feathers that pull you down to the dark rim of a darkening earth. And when you lift your eyes from the oily slap of water, they gleam briefly, a flint that no light gives you, not the burning iron ships, nor the harboured moon, nor the flare of a match, your eyes gleam with the agony of presence.

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