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My stories
Admission
The worst secret you know should be as taboo as admitting to your mum that you imagined her face when you were born, and wondered if she split.
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- 2198 reads
Prelude to a grope
This is a speed poem, For the record, if anyone can figure out what is going on in the poem, it did not happen to me. It did however happen to a close friend. It is sad that I felt the need to justify, but there you go.
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- 2298 reads
Meanwhile at the bar a drunkard muses
She offered me her handbag as a history, each drink lodged her looser. She threw out tears, teabags, tissues, mistletoe, a migrane, dismorphic disorders, photos of her 3 sons and lipstick.
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- 2060 reads
I live in a case of cloth
I live in a case of cloth, every day swaddles me closer to my breasts, to my breathing. I leave the house with my butter bean eyes, casseroling the sky, mostly looking out for sin. People often ask me if the abacus under my eyes,
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- 2252 reads
Maybe I mistook you
Maybe, the girl in the green top at Cambridge station, whose head I watched egg whisk into the crowd, wasn't you. On the train, I see your face in the flat black earth. I thread whole copses of trees through your hair
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- 1790 reads