28/7/14
sarah
He pressed his ear to the stone and heard the crowd roaring
started back in alarm, stared around at the milling tourists
ran his hands over the centuries-stained rock, looking for speakers
wondered if he was being Punk’d
wondered in Punk’d was still on television
stood uncertainly for a moment as the day droned on
pressed his ear to the stone and heard the swords snap together
heard the hot breath of dogs and the rough skid of gravel
heard the moment the flesh gave way and the insides spilled out of a man
reeled back, knees trembling, clutching his ticket
whose steep price seemed suddenly justified
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