Battlefield

The battlefield behind you
tells not of bloodied corpses
but of poppies;
each poppy a lesson learnt
from a romance
or a dalliance.

To navigate this war zone
you’ve used intuition and strategy –

Those Chaotic Twenties…

Those chaotic twenties, characterised by comparison and rumination; when career successes brush up against career panics. And Saturday night’s laughter shape-shifts into Sunday’s regret; as frivolous exploration transforms into ‘unbecoming behaviour’. Through which independence beckons and financial demands loom, yet childhood lurks behind our shoulders. But those chaotic twenties, as love, desire and passion are…

Bruises

It wasn’t long before the blood rose to the surface. A red slash on my hip from the crack of the whip was the first to appear. Next came the speckled purple and blue on my boob, slapped by you. How would my cheek react? Hands around my throat making me choke as you thrust…

Oceans

Your voice envelopes me across oceans. Letters on the page transcribe a deeper intimacy and the confidence with which you speak rouses me down the telephone line. And I feel like I’ve known you for years.   Photo by Sithamshu Manoj on Unsplash

Write with Rupi

On Friday evening 9,000 people tuned into Rupi Kaur’s IG Live for a writing workshop.  I wasn’t sure what to expect but I was so engaged that the hour whizzed by; possibly the fastest hour of the week in quarantine. There were moments I found myself feeling emotional about the workshop; with the virus impacting…

The Silent Couple

The silent couple sits shuffling in their chairs whilst the waiters bustle around.   Their phones turned down, threatening to disrupt the silence. Then the vibration beckons.   A quick flip of the phone, a stolen look at the screen and an internal relief that there’s something to focus on.   When the food comes…

60 years.

In the space of 20 minutes I saw 60 years. I lived through two marriages – two divorces, and then, strangely, our break up. Slipping in and out of consciousness, the present seemed out of reach. Grasping onto it for three minutes only for the inevitable slip, slip, slip away to wash over me. Fear…

The builder.

Friday, 4pm rolls around. The drilling and radio stop. Today, new problems have been found, and the client is ready to flop. Finishing his fourth cup of coffee of the day, the builder talks of the weekend (to her dismay).   “I’m not allowed ou’ on my own,” the builder says to the client. “the…

Working Bookstack

My working bookstack: These are the books currently informing my writing.  Some have been in the stack for years (the wrong knickers, milk and honey, the sun and her flowers) because they provide new inspiration on each opening.  Others are added to my over-flowing bookshelves once I’ve worked through my annotations (e.g. Polly Vernon’s ‘Hot…

Late at night

Do you text them late at night like you do to me? Do you whisper sweet nothings of what you both could be? Do you show off your cocktail flair then caress their legs and their hair? Do you drink as much with them, ‘though you’ve only gone over at ten? Do you plant kisses…