Dearest, I am writing to say thanks for thinking of me but no thanks. My hands are in the soil and my body in the water and my mouth is singing. These things take me away from you and the world we inhabit together. Let me go, for trying to stay splinters who I am … Continue reading Postcard from the North
Tag: prose poem
Sunshine Toes
Do toes remember sunshine? Do they wake up each morning & say, whilst half-asleep & under layers of duvet, remember that summer of sun & sea & salt on our skin? Do they long for the heat & warmth & light that seeps gradually, irresistibly, into sinews & bones? Do they say, enough of socks … Continue reading Sunshine Toes
Corona Clothing
It seems to me Corona Clothing is all the rage – though nobody currently calls it that. Rather, it is known as Working From Home clothes or What Day Is It clothes or We Don’t Have Enough clothes. Despite, or because of the pandemic, having the right kind of clothing is now, a matter of … Continue reading Corona Clothing
The Pack
They were walking to the pub when The Dark One suggested howling at the moon. Laughing, they arched their necks and howled. Later, when three of them were leaving, they howled a Goodbye and The Rebellious One (smoke trailing from her cigarette), howled in response. Silently they climbed the hill, breath steaming in the cold … Continue reading The Pack
Barefoot Sociologist 