She is old, frail, can't string a sentence together. She doesn't recognise me. I read her stories - she used to read them to me -, about a gypsy girl who keeps saying "I don't belong here". I feel guilty. She sleeps. I hope my voice is comfort to her, on some level, while she's... Continue Reading →
This week we shaved your hair. It dropped, we collected dreadlocks. You selected. Thick, thin, those divided into two or three at the bottom and chose between us who would bequeath. Some of us weaved it into ours. I cursed my hair for the millionth time for being so white, so white it wouldn't clutch... Continue Reading →
I love when he takes my hand. It saddens me too. Sat on the sofa, our legs spread like starfish watching Victoria. Not royalists, but we love period dramas. He may comment on the fish tank, the lunar, the clam, the shrimp, as though they're the school project he never had, or us lot who... Continue Reading →
In the witching hour when all is dark and still I come to believe my heart is a pin cushion. The pins are X-rays, doctors' words, nurses' faces full of pity, MacMillan leaflets, statistics, paracetamol, naproxen, morphine, fentanyl, "therapy" - radio radio radio chemo chemo chemo clinical trials. Spread. Spread. Spread. They should have should... Continue Reading →
If I could collect each tear from across the years that were spilled due to drugs devilish deal since childhood and drop them in the ocean I'd start a tidal wave of purely sweet emotion, wash away the victims' pain, annihilate the makers' gain and of course, refill, all the other hearts that were drained.
The snake wraps around the grooves of my brain, the ventricles of my heart, constricts my lungs, flips my tummy with flicking tongue. Most active in the early hours. I obsess, (stop thinking, oops, I'm off again) over him needing salad. If I could I'd eat elephant-sized iceberg lettuces everyday for his nutrient-craving body. The... Continue Reading →
When I have a drink in bed, the mattress could be anything, a raft, an island, a flying carpet. 8pm in bed on a Saturday night? In my 20s I swore I'd party my whole life. I was right. Except now the party isn't a Saturday night, the party is in my soul. It's gratitude... Continue Reading →
Sat together, he closes his eyes and I think the same old thing that's looped over, over, over for two years. Let us find the cure to heal his body, save his life and give me many, many, many more nights of him snoring lightly, quietly, peacefully beside me on this brown leather sofa. His... Continue Reading →
She realised she must be grateful for fucked up shit. They were still alive. Impossible thought! But in the early morning, she felt a new day. Blessing. The smell of onions on her washed hands was life now. They cooked together. Some days they chanted, cross-legged, closed-eyes, holding hands. Other days he'd walk. Deep breaths.... Continue Reading →
