The New Ten­ants

The London Magazine - - SUZANNAH EVANS -

When we go the ivy will slam a fist through the dou­ble glaz­ing, push its fin­gers in be­tween the bricks. It will sling ropes around our walls and pull them down

like the land­lord al­ways feared. This time next year the whole house will be a hive of late Septem­ber bees, susurrat­ing like a bro­ken TV. The flowerbeds are dead

and all that’s left are th­ese, bunched, pale green, the end of the sea­son. The honey they make is dark as the morn­ings, bit­ter as the frost that is wait­ing.

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