Ashleigh Young

Driven I grew up in a small team one hour’s drive from a phonebox. It’s easy to drive for an hour but having to makes the trip forlorn. We were close-knit enough to hammer each other down into the wood. Some developed a pallor, some crawled under the bracken in pairs. Each of us eyed up the other’s workboots. One of us stole another away in a wheelbarrow the body concealed beneath clippings. I drove off alone in the first draft of a morning resting in the designated areas, where the picnic tables were still leaving their tree selves behind.“Ashleigh Young”

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