My uncle was dispensing financial advice
when the floods came.
I was walking out on the jetty
and frantically closing windows.
He was recommending ISAs, which was strange
as the sun was flat.
I used the colour drop tool to change the sky.
Brickwork was falling and then
I was gripping it in my hands as the road got steeper.
The tree outside Amy’s blossomed
and I looked back below at the tarmac escarpment:
a lupine figure working the vertical treadmill
towards me.
Someone had been sick in the corner.
James was there, in some capacity.
All night I was riding the tops of the trains.
Tom Chivers 