Skip to content

Lucas de Kretser

In the Appalachian Mountains, I discovered a little hamlet. Just a dozen houses growing out of the green, swaying on stilts rooted in the grey under-rock.
            Bloated veins reached out from the weary city in the deep valley; and here, from the seldom-used station, slender, unstopped arteries extended further to smaller villages deeper in the wild.
            I rented a single room – from June, a sweet old thing. Spent a week in her garden, sketching the tulip trees and the Indian bats in the vibrant moonlight.
            Even as copperheads coiled about my ankles, I kept my eyes always on the wide-open sky.