leaving an exhibition of drawings by Richard Serra
The day unwrites me
nothing more than a passing texture.
I wear my own exposure
turned white by smoke-damaged gravity.
Nothing stops soon enough
in the square
I walk away with my eyes
sore with the city before them
with the ruin of too much light.
Daniel Fraser is a writer and critic living in London. His work has featured in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Berfrois, Gorse, the Quietus, Music and Literature, Black Sun Lit and 3AM Magazine among others. Find him on Twitter @oubliette_mag.
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