Truth or Dare

The days were rust and nettles, blistering sun, our tongues too fat to lie. In the sidings, weeds swallowed old metal, like we swallowed dry promises, trying not to gag. You said only the abandoned were beautiful, and we threw rocks at carriage windows, though they never broke. One night we stole a quart of bad wine and played truth or dare in the tunnel’s gaping mouth. They’ve built houses there now, and I still can’t remember what we did.

Oz Hardwick is a writer, photographer, music journalist, and occasional musician, based in York (UK). He has published six poetry collections, most recently The House of Ghosts and Mirrors (Valley Press, 2017), and has edited and co-edited several more, including (with Miles Salter) The Valley Press Anthology of Yorkshire Poetry, which was a National Poetry Day recommendation in 2017. His website: http://ozhardwick.co.uk.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.