Highfields

Subsequently published as a poem by Floodlight Editions.

As merry as the day was long, I wandered, winderly,

Demure amber, skyward, encased the thread of day,

And I read the benches of the barely dead.

.

Planted I turned to the lake,

As, aimlessly, the moorhens mawked and paddled,

Away,

The slithers of the day,

Circling and encircling, nothing, a moment.

.

And showed a commitment to that aegis,

that I could not,

As I read the benches of the barely dead,

and thought.

Published by QuiffedLiterati

I am a PhD Researcher of Contemporary Anglophone Literature at the University of Warwick. I mainly research 'the secret', neoliberalism, and the novel since the turn of the twenty-first century in Britain, drawing on literary studies, politics, philosophy, history, poststructuralism, post-critique, affect theory, and aesthetics.

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