An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
They came up from the depths. From
underground. They had
abandoned the calendar and possessed
no measure for how long ago
they had been sequestered. Without
the delineations of light and dark,
time was useless. They came
up from the bunkers, from the shelters,
from places buried deep.
They were losing language: little remained
worth naming. They came
up through the mine-shafts, the tunnels,
finally emerging via a system
of ramps. The sky as they had known it
was gone. The only building
remaining was a church, judging by the shape.
A shroud covered it. They stood
and looked, maintaining a distance, hesitant
to draw closer. The scene
had the immobility of a painting.
Neil Fulwood was born in Nottingham, England, where he still lives and works. He has published two collections with Shoestring Press, No Avoiding It and Can't Take Me Anywhere, and a third is due for publication later in 2021.