Samuel Acres

Jul 9, 2024 | artillerymag.com | Emma Christ |John Tottenham |Samuel Acres

ReceiptBus stops are one full breath apartIs why men drink in them. Their poor slow hearts,Their poor slow blood. Leant on elbows on knees theyHawk up galaxies. The car becomes a well when youCry there. 24h carpark. —Without myMarrow and the wind blows I’m a flute,And when there’s no wind I run to make it. I wish you couldn’t see where I sleep. I run beside the bus, in the cover of it,In the heat of its exhaust.