William kept his shoes on as Kerry walked barefoot on the beach. She, in a tie-dyed oil-spill dress, high neck, high hem, showing off long, slender legs. He, somehow pulling off handsome with a fag constantly on the go, wearing navy trousers and light blue, flappy-collared shirt. Continue reading “The Date”
You feel safe as you traipse alone, drunkenly, from the road into the first fair branches of the forest. Only the moon, rapier silver, lights your way, as you wend through trees to that familiar clearing. At peace in this now-still scene of teenage fumblings, you sweep cigarette butts to the edge with your boots. You build a small fire, set it burning with your second-last match, and hunker down, pulling jacket and blanket round you into oblivion. Continue reading “The Forest”
“Say that again.”
My eyes held his, heart pounding, deathly calm.
“If Jamie was alive, he’d beat the shit out of you, and love it, too,” he snarled.
I felt each word land and let the volcano erupt inside of me, pounding Dad, right and left, again and again across the face.
His ghost stole in like the grey fingers of dawn.
His back wheel spinning, glimpsed from inside the grocer’s, while I queued for a Cadbury’s Applause. The bike on its side, handlebars on pavement.
Then he was beside me. Emotions kaleidoscoped. Continue reading “Dawning on Me”
At last Dad came home, while we were in school, and that evening we were each allowed a few minutes in his room.
A face turned purple.
Mottled and bubbled and lumpen, one eye closed like a boxer’s.
An ogre, a brute, a fairytale monster.
Underneath was my Dad.
Still strong, with hard hands, and black, wavy hair. Continue reading “Old Spice and Cigarette Scented”
Jim Crow keeps ravens in his loft.
Not live ones- dead ones,
Posed in the illusion of flight. Continue reading “Jim Crow Keeps Ravens in his Loft”
A man claiming to be the third coming of Christ was arrested on Christmas Eve after turning over tables in Westfield Shopping Centre while the public snapped up last-minute gifts. Yelling “Is there anything more un-Christian than Christmas?” he was apprehended in Foot Locker when he tripped over his sandals, insisting “I’m Christ, I should know.” Continue reading “Christ’s Christmas Blog”