Saturday 16 July 2016

A Rainbow of Fire


Your Bobba embroidered that tablecloth with a rainbow of fire, showed the world she was more than just a simple country girl.
Years ago you gave it to your sister, thinking her the collector of heirlooms, thinking you – Lady of Zen – could live without a past.
Now, whether you like it or not, the ancestors have come to sit at your table, to bless the golden loaves, the goblets of wine.

Thursday 7 July 2016

Drops

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We took hurried turns on the payphone in the communal hallway, our chit-chat punctuated with drips from the leaky bath upstairs.
I don’t remember who it was that pestered me to get off the damn phone or what it was I muttered under my breath as I hung up and walked away.
But I can still hear the sound behind me, loud as an explosion, and the chair smashed under the weight of all that plaster, all those drops of water, all that time.
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Sunday 3 July 2016

On the Crossbar

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I remember that morning in Long Beach,
sitting on the crossbar of my dad’s bike,
the two of us carried through time by the sun and the wind.


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