A Nuclear Family

There’s violence lurking in the breakfast things. Forced to feed in the company of strangers - no-one fits their mug-shots yet - sore bears kicked from slumber snarl

Slapstick

The men stood either side of each other, thick gloves clutching four corners of thin air. It seemed strange that nothing could be such a weighty matter,

Reunion

And even now, after so many years, so many coats of institutional whitewash, the corridors still smell of rage. The last thing I remember; running like hell on the last day, trailing

The Fibber

He told me how he lay awake at night to catch shooting stars on his tongue, and washed by waiting till it rained. How once he’d taught a hen to tell the truth, then faked the eggs

The Boy Who Thought He Could

Mother licked and slicked his hair back, then in a voice that dripped sugar sent him out to pick blackberries, to get him out from under her feet. He skirted the cliff, his arms flapped

In The Clouds

It is mid-afternoon, the time I set aside to write. Outside the winter dawdles, snow-packed clouds are holding back. It should be snowing. I should be writing. The pen hangs,

Pongo #75

Cherry

Hello Sailor

************************

The Woods

The winter woods You already knew Were new to us Again you had the edge On me, the calm Of secret knowledge Settled like cupped water In your palm I know wood and water
Cherry

The Belt

I must have done something to deserve it, I don’t recall. Slouching from the room I’d muttered and mumbled and my father - drained from a business trip - had heard

Pages