Over the Dyke

There’s a drop that lasts forever between the bin-house and the moss-covered wall. You’ve seen a girl drop her baby down there, her glass eyes staring, a cracked smile. Sometimes you stand on the wall and shout downwards—weird girl noises—mamamama eeeeewwww heloelllooooo—to see if you get an answer. You bend your bloodied knees till they …

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