grey skies, slick bitumen
heartache hurls itself into the world, grateful
to be heard—at the place where burnt rubber curved
black lines over the edge (the space between two points
on a map, erased) I wonder if it was inclination, instinct or
regret you grabbed at—spinning out, the road reaching up
to meet you

This is a reprint of work originally published in A Synonym for Sobriety.

Ben Adams is a writer from Adelaide, South Australia, who has studied literature and history, clerked at video stores and petrol stations, been paid to wrangle cash at beer-soaked music festivals, and worked in academia. Many of his poems have found publication both online and in print over the last decade. His first complete collection of poetry, A Synonym for Sobriety, won the Single Poet series award from Friendly Street Poets and was published in 2019. Find him on Instagram (@bts.adams) or Twitter (@badbadams) and, finally, on Facebook at

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