THE WHOLE

  Remembering Nana Frances on Nollaig na mban (Women’s Little Christmas) Evolution 13. The Whole My grandmother, whose name was Frances and not Nana as I used to think, started baking cakes for Sunday’s tea on a Monday morning, slow and steady was her process like her concentration while waiting for pennies to drop from […]

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THROUGH THE SANDS

  And when they danced she would hold him, her perfume by his face, his hands as her strength as they waltzed through their current as the tides swept the shore, through love and labour, to the first born, still born, through the twins who stopped the tears and the girls who tied the bows […]

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COLOUR IS WAITING

  And still we will come to lick the honey from the purple petal and still we will come to root out the weeds of worthlessness in gardens where others eat up all that is beautiful. Time turns and we, in turn, follow its path, suns set and the moon shows us its song, hold […]

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RISING THROUGH THE RICKETY REDS

  I laid on the floor and touched the marbled perfume of the ocean as it washed over me, waves of flying feathers, a fluid fire of salted foam. I kissed the poison of your lips, once, and did not die as you came over me, next to me, inside of me. Decay is not […]

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BORDERED IN, day 14 of A Month with Yeats

  It’s day 14 of A Month with Yeats coming to you from a wet, wild and rather wintery -2 degrees of Stockholm. Today’s quote from the genius of Jane Dougherty is: ‘That you, in the dim coming times, may know how my heart went with them after the red-rose-bordered hem.’ —W.B. Yeats. Jane’s blog […]

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FLAP AND SNAP

  Daddy didn’t know how to say it, didn’t know how to do it, Daddy didn’t know how to ask it, but Daddy knew how to break it, like it broke before, like they broke him before, like they beat him to the floor and the butterfly flaps his wings in confusion in the garden […]

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BETWEEN THE PANES

  Before the #NaPoWriMo kicks in with its 30 days of 30 new poems, (who is taking part?) here is a little chilling tale of ghostly goings on between the window panes… Between the Panes A short story The wife. I am a wife. I am a mother. There is a brown house with a […]

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