Sterile Tools

My feet tread the hardwood floor,

to look out at the cold morning light.

The sun reflects back onto,

the pristine white of the bedspread.

I had looked away and missed,

the crash of the bird against the glass,

but turning, saw it fall, land limp

like the body on the table – too still.

I break my fascination with the little form,

and leave the now-cold room. 

In the kitchen I find the radio,  

and friendly ambient noise

I sit, coffee untouched. Still.

Waiting for another body,

while my own is sprung with steel.

Little Epic

First of all I want to celebrate a very exciting delivery I had recently!

Well technically two... My rather gorgeous boots are always worth celebrating, but the really exciting news for me as a poet, is my inclusion in this rather beautiful Zine. The two ladies to be thanked for this frankly rather fantastic publication, are Jemma and Katie Green.

The zine is called Little Epic and is a collaboration of different writers and illustrators creating a rather beautiful and very eclectic publication. This is issue one with hopefully many more to come.

Here's another picture or two of my poems and their illustrations.

I was very lucky to be working with Katie Green who has done a fantastic job. She's promised to send me over the original illustrations as well. I should be getting them in the post any day. Exciting!

If you're interested in getting a copy, have a look on Katie's Etsy page or her new Big Cartel store. Well worth a look. Not only is there this little beauty, but also her regular zine, The Green Bean and her fantastic artwork.

Sweat

The anger like lines in the sand

Like the clammy heat

of summer night insomnia

To toss and turn and rut

Toss and turn until

you make a trench in the sand

The grains hard against your back.

Gritty and cold and damp

and so unlike human skin

that it feels like kindness