I wrote this a while back for a competition at Freeword. It got long-listed, and I got some great feedback, but I did that defeatist poet thing of hiding it away because it didn’t win and was therefore shite. Finally, I went through the judges’ comments and worked on it, hard. Here you go, it’s […]
Girls Talk Then they look at me different, the girls who’ve heard I’ve been loveless fucking a boy out of my league, a 9 to my 6, that we’ve had sex without story, without aligning star signs or postcodes or appetites or dreams or references. Soon everyone I know knows too, and, rather than ask, […]
‘Unsex me here’ I am incubating these words in a greenhouse. I am naked and deadheaded and in charge of this propagation. I plant them so deep, the soil quakes – this is the birth of a volcano, and the collapse of one. You, boy, can watch if you like but you will stay outside. You […]
Birdman You are robin-breasted – the outstretched wing of a full house beats my flush. Victory sits on your cheeks like a fat baby. I shuffle the cards and deal, uninterested in the game or the anecdote of your last date – she had a nose like a macaw, no, a fucking flamingo but that’s […]
I know you now as 90 (draft) I know you first as the woman who looked just like Grandma, second as the lucky-nosed coin. I used to collect fifty pences trace their hexagonal brink – never quite brave enough to hold my breath and make a wish, though. I’m turning 25 this year. I […]
Spine I asked my spine how it keeps me up on days like today when darkness curdles around my shoulders and begins unfurling a cloak of dumbbells and tar, letting gravity coax us to the concrete, atom by atom. Spine says nothing (it never does), re-aligns its stacking, and holds me through.
Touch If a fallen tree protrudes a single branch from a lake like an outstretched hand, but no-one is around to pull him to his feet, will the lightning still see him as the tallest and chop the sky into zig zags to reach down and touch him?
Ironing Board I keep this memory in a drawer – the water creases of your sleeves still smelt of Sheffield, puckering in this borrowed bed, the heavy stitching of my skirt pooling around our ankles. After, you counted the fresh grooves and you slept on the ironing board to straighten yourself out.
Facebook stalking Today is date day, I am warm and full and waiting for you To pass the time I am deep into 2013 and making mental notes I won’t mention your shit hair or that god awful shirt I won’t mention Brussels with her or the lock you left in Paris […]
04/04/2016 – Still Uncertain There is space between us. We are drowning. We are us between space. There is drowning. There, space, is we – us between are. Drowning. Drowning there. Space between us is we are. Between us is space drowning. There we are. Are we space? There is drowning between us. Drowning there between […]