Their PrintsMoths, ghosts, my house is full of them. I live with waves of silence but the lives roar enormous through my rooms – hung on walls, stuffed in bookcases, leaking from wounded suitcases tied with string. It rained last night, and the dead came down with the drops – to gather where the land is flat and windblown. The quiet stores their smiles.I press my finger where theirs have been, thread words to tumble them back, all talking, arguing. Ink, Sweat & Tears 2018from Sally’s fifth collection of letter-poems, My Darling Derry,available now.