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Ruby Dunn
Ruby Dunn (she/her) is a history student and writer in…
![The humming of fans dug out for one week only, the warmth of upper rooms and the hope of open windows and the floating voices of those strangers who spend the nights talking around fires and streetlights. I burrow into the wind. The rivulets where the North Sea has tracked through the shore are like crows’ feet, or fish tails, as if the sands too are washing out and in again and out, like every unsent text: I’m scheduling time to be sad about this. Please don’t die. Did you pace round the kitchen crying to be human today? Can you buy milk? I think I will make it tomorrow. When you’re back, we should get coffee. I love you. Every flower that clings to the cliff edge and opens itself to the sun every morning seems to say - No big and irreversible mistake was ever made in one moment. You will not break gravity. So, my dad’s pride feels wrong again, like a birdsong note held too long in traffic, testimony to the last five months, I suppose - myself within those months, too: wordless. I track the rivulets forward six weeks, I cry about it and we don’t get coffee. I find my way back to Morningside, sweep open those sash windows, drink in the honey and shortbread whiskied air, sit, wordless in these weeks and light evenings, lofty, listening to conversations never meant for me: And that’s why I love him. Goodnight. Give us a light? Tomorrow, then. Cheers](https://hyacinthreview.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/08/DUNN-there-are-some-things-i-love-about-summer.png)
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![](https://hyacinthreview.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/08/Dunn-e1659975228948.jpg)
Ruby Dunn
Ruby Dunn (she/her) is a history student and writer in Scotland. Her degree, faith and the Scottish landscape all prompt her to explore through poetry the world into which she has been welcomed. Her poems have been accepted for publication by Trampset, Scissors & Spackle, and Celestite, among others. As a writer, she's never sure if she's emerging or retiring, but she's usually glad to be involved.