Slievemore, Deserted Village, Achill, 2011   It is not a silence but a removal of words to be amongst those places that have been left. The slabs and stones and roofless....

      Peacock: The Death of the Princess  A Matriarchal Tale from Transylvania   Once upon a time, the sultan's lonely daughter watched the royal peacock rise up from the...

      December: Dusk The tide is out. Sandbanks bar our way, the channel too shallow now for us to leave before the water returns. We are safe from any sea-storm anchored here behind...

      Valentine Today I was writing on the train, embarrassed, ergo I kept adding bracketed references (St Pancras, 2013) And arrows to my caesurae and crossings-out. I scrawled...

    Too Much Sky We trudge through air like setting cement, each boot-print a muddy hallmark to the silk screen of leaves at our feet. The river drives out straight from these few trees,...

      Dreaming teacher   In the hollow of the night you leap from your bed and slip through the patio doors into your garden. Slim legged and shyly bowed head, you graze –  ...

      The Halo round a Frying Pan —   is hard to see under the cold white light of a halogen bulb. Blackened by use and misuse, caked in fat from yesterday’s fry-up, the empty vessel...

      The Miracle of Our Evolution The creek full of dead fish/ sunken/ muddy bottom laid flat -dead eyed stares -opened mouths -gills collapsed we waded into the water and our feet...

      Autobiography   I only remember our neighbour’s wind chimes, Rosie and Jim, and my first lie. There was a tree house in the garden, blue and white checked summer dresses, a...

      For Sale We are an abandoned house. Walls of wood slowly stripped dried bark fading on the floor. For Sale sign creaking with the wind's song. The two of us, outside. Feet...