A Moment of Swans

Reflections on Writing and Friendship  Your plan for today was to write hard and fast, Control, seize and capture the words that would last the test of all time, beyond human recall, Instead you are daydreaming and your fingers have stalled.   ‘Remember this moment!’ she loudly declared, ‘What moment?’  You ask her whilst climbing … Continue reading A Moment of Swans

Happiness

Are you happy? He asks whilst slurping his soup, It’s his new favourite topic that goes on in a loop, How happiness is something you find and achieve, It’s not something that’s arbitrary, elusive, misconceived.   I am grateful for many things here in my life, My health, this house, the heating on at night. … Continue reading Happiness

Mary

You were named after Mary, Which one you’re not sure The Virgin? The Harlot? The one who scrubs the floors, or was her name Martha? Either way it's not fair, Your name is a burden that others don’t share.   ‘Hail Mary Mother of God,’ the priests would intone as all the kids around you … Continue reading Mary

Martha

For the Perthshire Mummy Brigade   It’s 6 in the morning you’re lying in bed, You’re watching your husband get dressed and you’ve said: ‘Let me turn down your collar, I’ll straighten your tie.’ You’ve toasted his success, ‘Here’s mud in your eye!’ His new job is starting, he’s anxious as fuck, You hope that … Continue reading Martha

Scars

You died on Friday  on the day we were meant to go to Spain. Instead of sun and vitamin d, I sat in crushing pain, Repeatedly asking Why? Why? Why? over and over again.   Textbook grief: I did it all, those ‘stages’ every one, And all it really made me do was want to … Continue reading Scars

Complicit

You say ‘I’m sick, I cannot work,’ I say ‘Go take a nap.’ Your illness makes you howl and weep, My fingers itch to slap Your ravaged, ruined, stricken face. I don’t have any time for this, I’ve far too much to do, How can I help you manage what your sickness makes you do? … Continue reading Complicit

Lipstick

Grey mornings,Damp windows,A cold house full of sleeping people.Your face is tired, full of lines and folds,It’s not a face made for growing old.All the serums and creams cannot turn back Time,Feminism tells you, ageing's not a crime.Theoretically that’s true,Practically such shit:If you walked around naked, you’d look a right tit.Those tits once so firm … Continue reading Lipstick