Immunity – Jack Charter

I’m on hold.
There’s music coming down the line:
by Vivaldi. I know he’s Italian but
the strings, the violins
make me think of England
and royalty.

I’m waiting to speak to the place
which passes out
spiteful teaspoons
of money.

I phoned yesterday;
they played the same song.
by Vivaldi.
But it’s winter now.

After ten minutes
I take the receiver from my ear
and lay it on the freezer.

Am I –
are we
at the edge
of something
on this cold, foggy evening
at the end of twenty twelve?

And this ‘something’ –
did I really think
I was immune to it?



is the academic, Jack studies his Creative Writing MA in Kent, England. A previous fiction editor for The Menteur.

Contact him at jackcharter @ gmail . com (with no spaces)

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