In the creeping brown streambehind the abandoned textile mill,chemical runoffcurdles the current. No birds to be heard.No squirrels. No painted turtles.Not even a water rat. The sun’s a trespasserpoking around in weeds and grass,climbing down from broken rooftop tilesto peer in at rusty machinery. Then something long and scalyglides close to the bank,head hidden underwater,all but for two red piercing eyes. The town is dyingof competition from … Continue reading The Only Sign of Life by John Grey