A picture of a place you’ve seen before but not

with the light bouncing off the water
in exactly that way and not
with those types of red flowers
in those types of hanging boxes
over those types of arches
made of bricks of exactly
that size and texture and
with a door on one of the
balconies, ajar. The necks of the swans

as they swoop in for the bread:
an imbroglio of the most vulnerable
parts, momentarily horrifying

I brought it on myself
early morning, after rain.


words: Rose Hunter, Mexico (YB poetry journal / blog)
image: Natalie Abadzis, London (byebyeballoon)


another morning picture: And then Absence (#10)


BluePrintReview - issue 21 - shortcuts / detours