Frankie
︎︎︎ Toby Rant
︎ Jan 12, 2026
She’s inside, dormant, suspended,
but dreaming.
The past— Sand, Star, Mark, Indian Queens.
Futures past, too- flocks of parakeets,
swans that break necks.
She’s trying to understand
where she fits in.
And there are huge concrete towers,
a wide, open labyrinth with her
in its basin.
Yet still there are fountains
in every square,
and plants breach the tops of all
the walls, cascading down to her
like ladders, inevitable.
but dreaming.
The past— Sand, Star, Mark, Indian Queens.
Futures past, too- flocks of parakeets,
swans that break necks.
She’s trying to understand
where she fits in.
And there are huge concrete towers,
a wide, open labyrinth with her
in its basin.
Yet still there are fountains
in every square,
and plants breach the tops of all
the walls, cascading down to her
like ladders, inevitable.
Toby Rant is from the West Country in the UK. He likes to walk the dog.