Ice-cold loneliness numbed her body and soul, shielded her heart, with starry snowflakes. With her eyes the colour of slush after snow, embrangled in winter’s undertow, her personal winter drifted into spring, hoar frost still sparkled on everything like a silver Midas touch, until she found a crow, ebony black, stiff on the ground. She […]

Rossetti’s Harp Player

The harp is made to play laments, and her fingers pluck its strings mournfully in mellifluous torment. Notes spill like dawn birdsong from the instrument she clings, as if it were the first song the harp had learnt to sing. Her velvet gown is black as night, the harp of ebony made, but light shimmers […]

Without Lips

The fabric’s stale and hot with breath, slightly damp and beginning to chafe, but alluring with its pattern of pink, full-petalled and sensitive to touch. The eyes do it, dark depths above the matching mask. In a moment of pandemic madness they come together, flower on flower, blossom into a kiss without lips, and he […]

Almost (a love story)

almost burned her fingers as she watched a flame consume a match almost to its end almost cried at the pain that didn’t come but the tears were welcome anyway almost fell in love with the man who struck the match that lit her (almost) last cigarette almost kissed him on the lips before the […]

Rediscovering the Night

Lying smug and snug in the arms of the countryside, I can’t recall the sound of the city’s background song, but hope, in this shutdown pandemic, that worldwide respect spreads like galaxies of stars for the long- forgotten night noises: the whirring wings of geese returning and the owls’ reviewing the day in the trees. […]