Ingrid Casey

Glock

Ingrid Casey

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We stood, arms

linked, facing on a fallen tree. Old

words printed inside crowns. The shot

came then; you stumbled back, shame a

soft-needled bed. I stepped off at the end, five

or maybe seven steps later. You'd composed need;

drew me to you. Sentinel acting out love, a post-fact,

hard, liar, perfectly velvet in the greening air. 


Ingrid Casey


Ingrid Casey is a teacher and writer. Her poetry has been featured in a range of literary journals across Ireland and Britain, including The Moth, The Interpreter's House, The Stony Thursday Book, The Honest Ulsterman, Southword, Poethead and so forth. Her fiction has been shortlisted for Doolin Writers festival, Retreat West, and the Ghost Story Supernatural fiction competition. Poems from Wales' The Lonely Crowd can be heard here: https://thelonelycrowd.org/2017/05/04/two-poems-by-ingrid-casey-read-by-the-author/

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