As soon as she jumps on my lap, she throttles up and purrs, a rumble in her windpipe, palpable Tartini tones that make my heartbeat skip. I often wonder if she still vibrates, trills, and chirrups when I’m not tickling her around the face or nape, or playing with her ears. Do little purrs of […]
Tag: Imaginary Garden with Real Toads
Maladroit
My first bra made me self-conscious, all nipples and scratchiness, much like wearing my first bikini (never again!) or my first time skating in hired boots; my first kiss, trying not to crash teeth, dribble saliva or miss target completely; my first (and only) dinner party, or meeting other parents and toddlers when mine was […]
American Sentence in Purple
French kisses bruise the sky as I cartwheel through clouds of purple. Kim M. Russell, 23rd September 2019 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Bits of Inspiration: The Colours in a Song Susie is our host today with a prompt that asks us to experiment with synaesthesia, in particular the colour of music. […]
Washday
I remember the massive washing pot sizzling on the stove, steaming soap and shiny bubbles, the dolly, the washboard in the sink. Barely room for two in her tiny scullery, I gripped her apron tightly, behind the comfortable safety of her body, away from the flames flickering from washday spits. Afterwards, on the carmine step, […]
My Dark Existence
I go to sleep and wake to a steady drip and wonder if it’s radioactive or pure and clear, like the streams I once knew. Above ground, no fresh water remains: no trace of rain or cloud or sky. There is just the twilight of this cave, the weak rays that find their way through […]
The last time I saw her
there was a clamour in my soul’s anatomy, a sixth sense enmeshed in a daughter’s flesh. I held her fragile hand, touched fingernails, like fractured shells embedded in sand. The lump of imminent loss stuck in my throat like a dry piece of toast can never be swallowed. I cannot forget how her sacrifice spread […]
Losing the Thread
When a seamstress loses the thread, she becomes thorny: stitches tighten in her gut and snakes breed in her very soul, notwithstanding itches in her fingers from tiny hollow hairs, steeped in a poison that bewitches and catches her unawares. All fingers and thumbs, and nettled by unforeseen hitches, she waits for serenity and calm. […]
Crow at the Castle Gate
There is no lonelier spot than the castle on the moors, hung over with scudding cloud where a lone tattered crow soars. As it guards the castle gate it utters raucous caws, eyeing the path with a shiny eye while sharpening beak and claws to pick at the first stars of twilight, a shadow unzipping […]
Rust
The track she was following curved and swerved through ancient trees and undergrowth, muffling the sound of a gurgling stream until she passed a gap. Pushing through tangles of brambles, she glimpsed sunlight sparkling on water and slid down the bank in her haste to reach it. A river coursed through the forest and, just […]
Nibbling the Edge of Summer
I’m a grey squirrel, loveable in my autumn frenzy, gathering sustenance for the coming season. You are content to observe me scampering in gardens and parks, flying from branch to branch, leaping from path to bench, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You laugh as a scurry of clouds devours the sky, grey squirrels nibbling the azure until […]
writing in north norfolk 