A Pool of Dark in his Hands
The shadows that he’d seen didn’t darken the years that he helped with our wellies, lifted us up over dykes and stiles and carried doll's...
top of page
Search
JOHN SAYS HE'D DRIVE...
In Gillingham Park, nothing is really wrong. There is a slow dance of sycamore leaves in burnt orange and falling greens. Even the dog...
AND STILL IT RAINS
Three hundred children, brim full of poetry’ are shuffled from the library: a whispered threat to their security (just enough to suggest...
THE MOTHERS-IN-LAW
They come armed with bulbs: it’s not too late they say though the wind blows cold across the Shannon and the ground is frostbitten. I...
ALWAYS LOVED, DESPERATELY MISSED
Do bones feel a tickle as a finger traces letters – nestled, mossy letters – neatly indented in the cold grave stone? Is there a shiver...
SAILING SEASON
Don’t keep your curtains closed against the day or leave your glasses waiting, arms open, ready to frame your face. Don’t leave your...
THE PLEASURE GROUND
What was the draw that brought us here, us four? Well, for one, we were rural-remote and chasm bored. Our Xanadu – a slope of woodland...
DRAWING ON MY DEAD AUNT'S PAPER
There’s finite space to fill – space she chose with an artist’s eye for weight and shade, cut up sometimes, ideas half-formed, or framed...
DAD VERSUS THE GRANULATION PLANT
Once, Dad took us to see where he worked shifts. (nights, eight to four, four to mid) With stretched necks and straight backs, we peered...
CHATHAM LIBRARY
The girl has shoes on her feet – hand-me-downs, scuffed in and comfy – with petrol fume lungs and a head full of stories. “Ours was the...
LAST TIME
The December night, silently freezes the hurdy gurdy: the steam horses and burnt burgers. The lights are pin prick bright. At the edge of...
SHAMPOO SHEEN AND THE CURSE OF OBSCURED MEMORIES
When your head smells of Sunkissed Raspberry or Joy and Jasmine, it masks the days of sea swimming – wild jumps from Liscannor’s rocks. I...
THE CHOSEN CLOTHES
Manchester 2000 Ben’s Flat In the slanted grey light of a Manchester evening, you lay out your clothes, ready for leaving: boxer shorts,...
ICE-CREAM DAYS
The grandchildren wait – old enough to accept that a last breath is death and yet…and yet. The sun is hot. Not just hot, it’s Greek-beach...
bottom of page