They’d been in hiding, in their buff folder, those dusty X-ray films, since nineteen-ninety. Not that I’d been seeking – no, had I sought such I risked being unwrought (or so I thought). Like the night Ma said, she said, she did, that I had been conscious throughout. As we were driven to the American [...]
PerPoBlo
Poetry from Argyll-based poet, Charles Dixon-Spain