This piece was written in response to Philip Larkin’s poem, Afternoons.
Iris stands apart, the smile playing on her lips temporarily eclipsed, as her mouth pinches a cigarette. Continue reading “Thank Heaven For Little Boys”
“Who’s out of bed? I fucking warned you.”
Dad’s voice crescendoed from the hallway as we sprung out of view on the landing, quick as an adrenaline surge. Bedroom door swinging behind us, I shinned up the ladder to the top bunk as Jay dived under the covers on the bottom. Dad took the stairs two at a time.
“Will you say it was you, Jay?” I pleaded. “He’ll kill me.” Continue reading “Brothers”
Thanks for all the feedback on Paulie. I made some changes and submitted this version for the anthology. I’ll learn if I made the cut by the end of July.
Half A Childhood
At last, Dad came home from the hospital, while Jay, Catherine and I were at school. That evening we were each allowed a few minutes in his room. I, being eight and eldest, went up first.
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.
He sat up in bed, beneath the bobbly green blanket, toenails curling black, peeping out. I felt secure as he pulled me onto his knee. Continue reading “Half A Childhood”