I’m such a bad Skyper! I keep looking at myself how I talk how I Zoom how I existIt’s just vanity I put make-up on today I putmake-up on which I haven’t worn in ageswhich has become my new standard ofdiscipline So you’re delivering this meeting this quiz this therapy this catch-upI’m sorry, but I … Continue reading We All Watch Ourselves on Skype
Defensive cubicles hide your growing apathy. It's like a musty scarf covering your mouth. You reek of printer-inked coffee-stained passivity. Dave's fluorescent "party" tie explodes through the room divider cracks. You're choking on your own groans by this point. An absence of light is followed by a chordof ABBA, strobes, a chorus of cheersthat's like … Continue reading Last Chance at the Leaving Do
You say, Meet me here. It’s not far. You can work out the route. You say this at the far end of the sofa the middle has sunk down to form a cavern that I cannot navigate. Separated by this cavern by this cushion your arm straddles the gap to my side like a handlebar … Continue reading What can I do to help?
The small wooden box on her mantelpiece was stainedwith echoes of her paper-thin fingertips tapping the lid, lingering in the mist of dust. The lid arched like herback and the box was engraved in gold which matched the mustard-coloured fade-marks on the Persian rug.I ran my finger across the top. It felt like gravel. Touching … Continue reading An Elegy for a Box
Minimum £300 for a gift please. As soon as Anna has typed the words, she winces, remembering what her mother said. “It’s because none of the guests are your friends.” She wheels back in her chair and focuses on the items on her desk; her line of vision is instantly drawn to the faint scratch-marks … Continue reading The Gift List
Once, I was promised eternal youthbut I turned it down.In my nightgown, with wrinkled hands,a slightly scratched wedding ring and plaguedby a constant urge to sigh,I can’t help but wonder, dear, what you are doing now. How hungry I was for that fairy-dusted midnight sky!How sensible I was in closing the curtains,eventually. Before I was … Continue reading Wendy
The balloons on the staircase should have been a giveaway, but Grace had other concerns. Her mum’s house was the only other place she could have gone. She still had a house key, so she texted ahead to check if they were in; they were all out for the day. Recounting the list in her … Continue reading Surprise
Left Hand, the lesser, in splints; Trauma victim, cut by a chipped plant-pot. On a sickly, creamy, fleshy backdrop, I see pink-tipped blushing finger prints, Heart lines, life lines, criss-crossed sharp lines, Strained veins that pull towards my palm, Broken, by the crescent, sickle-shaped scar: The stitched-up frown of my flesh shines. Now look at … Continue reading A Sonnet to Left Hand