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Otherwise, enter the password emailed to to you, to read and listen to a recording of the following poem, A Dent In The Dirt, by Jade Jackson.
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Her long established frailty
Became cruelly disposed of.
In a world untoward, she was an inconvenient reminder
her story, a failure of many.
I often dream of such an escape
to disappear off the grid
but could I really? Unattached to the digital realm.
I see painters and roadsters and other damned traits, lost; forgotten…
her life less remarkable.
How often did she dream of escape
dank in the darkness
her breath left a warmth
her words trailed into nothing
A musty sleeping bag
a few scraps of cardboard
a dent in the dirt where her body once lay.
A dent in the dirt
of a life half-lived
all because of pain
that could not be extinguished.
There were others
dozing the afternoon away
legs bent in awkward stances
a day and another
her life ended
their’s bland indifference
Seeking a puff of smoke
a capful of ale
or a dollar for a toothy grin.
A quick hit more tempting
than a lifetime of her love, her thoughts or words,
to warm our breath each night.
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