The dank presence of gunpowder fills their lungs. Settling smoke distorts their view. 5th November 1605 – a night like any other. If only this were really true. Traders to country, traitors to crown. The Gunpowder Plot, Dismembered, put down. Destructive paths each had chosen, Treasonous, treacherous. Yet failed to make any explosion.Continue reading “Poem: 5th November 1605”
The Neon Squid 