Yesterday the world emptied out.
I don’t remember a flood – just a perfect summer’s day that had gone a bit far.
Nothing was left except three donkeys and two pigs – and a hawk that began her serene hunt, wings spread, for prey.
I don’t think I was there. I was floating downstream or plucking away at something in someone else’s vacant apartment (where had all the furniture gone?) with not a hell of a lot to say.
A caterpillar might crawl across my path, if I was lucky, or a heavily-breathing man, intent on making it to the top.
There are bigger gaps between the stepping stones now, as well as peach trees, pumpkins, apples and apricots. They offer quiet advice that hangs just out of reach.
Susanna Gendall’s writing has appeared in a number of journals, including JAAM, Ambit, Takahē, Landfall and Sport. Her debut novel, The Disinvent Movement (THWUP), was published last year.