after Dorothy Parker “And rip the hearts of men in half And toss the bits away” - Dorothy Parker I dream too much of tearing your heart from the cocoon of your chest. I dream too much about revenge followed by redemption, for women, for … Continue reading Watch it burn
for Aimée Divisions had already been drawn before you were born — our blood would be thick but we were pulled from different rivers, silt running down our thighs: I remember the morning I held you, brushing distance from your brow and learning your name, just as you would learn mine — stumbling over … Continue reading Sand sisters
with you / or in your arms / with stones in my pockets / or kissing the sea. Alone / watching the sky / turn primrose pink / sprawled across the floor / giggling delirium / with alcohol in my bones. Sat at cliff edges / vertigo / wrapping cold hands / around my wrists … Continue reading Where I belong & things I shouldn’t say:
The smell of summer mud drifts in from the Estuary, invites itself into the village, wearing flowers for a crown. It proclaims June and beetles free themselves from my winter sleeves. And the bees, living in the chimney, bow and buzz in the ecstasy of the mud’s arrival; the tide singing along to … Continue reading I am June
I ask the crickets for their song; graze my palms across static wheat; invite the breeze to kiss my cheeks. I am adorned in the hum of life; a melody of perseverance, the thrum of legs raising an unending chorus. I eagle my arms left to right and fall into the long grass; a sea … Continue reading About crickets
after Olivia Snowdrop Imagine us / sat around a fire / the three of us / with darkness nestled / between our shoulders / between the years. Imagine aeroplane trails / above us / the impermanence of pollution / masquerading as clouds / the three of us / wishing we could float / and disappear. … Continue reading The three of us
after Kait Quinn The girl, the husk powdery to touch, frightened of fear and the secrets it keeps. The awe in my eyes when I see you, stitched in the elegant bow of willow trees. Love and beauty, the kingdom of frost melting into mid-july, the childhood of us. The begging, words thick with dust, … Continue reading What are you letting go of?
she meant sometimes the trees seem to whisper every name but yours, and the bluetits titter as the sun rises and sets each day as if mocking your inability to make anyone smile; or the lack of warmth you feel even within your own bones. She meant sometimes love is too short and too sudden; … Continue reading When Sara Bareilles sung ‘she is lonely most of the time’:
My mind, the corner I have kept for you has become a shrine I no longer wish to visit yet heed and pray before each night. My prayers are not gifts nor sweet nothings; they are not even prayers. They are misshapen thoughts, ounces of love without weight. There is nothing for me here anymore … Continue reading Ghosts in black coats
Moonlight shimmers across cobbled courts and Notre-Dame stands stoic in silence; omniscient and omnipotent, stained-glass eyes watching the Seine move beneath the twinkle of stars, the Eiffel Tower and the streets. Men with roses harangue tourists, but we are all seventeen and this is no time to love like strangers at midnight, our bellies full … Continue reading Paris, 2011.