Paper Dolls She did well, my secret twin – kept us alive, deflected blows, absorbed each wound into our body, quiet as a tree. I didn’t notice her leave until the wind whistled in and a bird flew from my mouth. Later I unfolded myself like a chain...

      To a Good Night’s Sleep You know how it goes but never why or when – perhaps it’s all that cheese and caffeine or a black cat crossing but sure as broken eggs make omelettes you can bet your life that one night all your hidden quirks and...

      Little Monuments my brain is no longer full of pound coins paperbacks with my name on    rainbow flags tax bills    Instagram followers    my brain is now Dad’s pierced left ear lobe that I touched for first and last time in chapel of rest to see...

      Long Haul In Buenos Aires, the high-rises are built with stacks of premium steak, while in Patagonia, the killer whales like to beach themselves, Tuesdays at half-past four in the afternoon to play a game of pat-a-cake. Bake me a cake, as slow as...

      Major Arcana No. XXI: The World  You could believe the all is dancing somewhere where the body is not bruised, where hearts are glowing like an earthrise, where all time and time’s losses, all wrongs are resolved in the golden snake that winds...

      From The Last Divided Capital In The World Childhood memories of sandbags, and barrels against barbed wired brick walls barricading the way to the unknown. The spoken of in choked up breaths. Displaced throats echo into mouths born generations...

      A part of my body is dead, hardened and now so hard you could use it as a door knocker or the beak of a woodpecker; it has turned the soot of Black Death, of Shanghai smog; I want to crack a nut on it like a squirrel, parched walnut brains waiting...

      Prised Apart   I raise my arms and let them slump back down. Maybe they don’t belong to me. Our movements more exhausted, looser Did we show rage. Did we try for once to rest your hands on your hips, hold yourself like a good china cup chipped as...

    The Old Fishing Village The rain is a gauze. I could have slept in, but listen to gulls bothering the cruise ships. What more can rain throw at us? Joe’s boat slips out once a day for weather-beaten tourists who find us on old maps. The yellow houses on...