It is the tenth of May 6:58p.m. and we are all huddled up on the living room sofa hands wringing hands phones poised on each letters each of us in preparation (though we know the rumours the leaks the consequences) our stomachs bundled like our arms in our duvets mouths slack and transfixed; waiting, waiting…
Creative Writing, Venue
Indoors / Outdoors
‘Don’t leave the back door open! You’ll bring the outdoors in!’ Mum used to say / still says, yet part of me wanted to let it all fall in, turn our lace and dress to petal, let moths wear our shirts to dust let ivy climb our cream kitchen walls and spread out, make a…
Creative Writing, Venue
Badminton
No older than seven, Dad asked us to find his net, the old practice badminton net he used and won his old leagues with, and he smiled, thinking of us working up to the same league and winning in the same cold court he lost in. Eager to help but not knowing how, my brother…
Creative Writing, Venue
Bodies
There is no easy time to do this; it is always too cold. You are a wrecked expanse, spread thin, limbs out and covering every bed-sheet stain, fabric bundled in the bend of each finger, face bundled in the wring of each kiss. I dive then, low and mask-less to knock a wearied fist against…
Creative Writing
The Monkey
Two men and a monkey sat between them, blinking up but never making noise, both there and not there, never seen (by others) until it leaps out screeching when their hands or their lips touch screeching when they cross each street corner screeching in every public night screeching when a row of men saunter, ten…
Creative Writing, Venue
Puddle Jumping
A month with no colour, no snow, a thick puffer jacket pulled over two red ears against a thudding Arctic bite; the boy treads on, warm and shuffling up the garden path happy simply for the freedom of the winds. The world is his: he sees no fence but the stretch of grass that coils…