I wrote this poem for my friend Alice, whose father had recently died. What a picnic What a party What a dream We come And then we go. And we slip back through the seam Like a breath Breathed out And everything in between Is a movie Or just a picture Just a beautiful moment …
She types salty the piano while the kettle rise crisscrossing like an aeroplane floats the milk on the teabag, spoons down buzzing heart shaped air This is no time to feel, there’s the push of gloved fingers through the letterbox There’s something landing, there’s moon landing, understanding, tangled eyelashes, a joke Look into the phone, …
On Thursday the 17th of June, I attended a remote book launch for the republication of my grandma’s autobiography Flickerbook. Attendees included my dad Param, award-winning US poet Ruth Fainlight, Leila’s agent Lisa Eveleigh, and Charles Boyle of CB editions, who republished the book.I think it was a surprise to all that I’d prepared a …
The place was just by the park and I was early, so I locked my bike and waited on a bench, enjoying the breeze and thinking it would be nice to live here. At the right time for the viewing, a woman let me in and we sat in the kitchen for a chat – …
Today it’s five years since my mum died. If you think you know what that means, you don’t. It’s much more complicated than that. Her name holds a strange power over me, there is still a bit of fear in the hearing and seeing of it. I will call her V, which was one of …
Bristol councillor vows to help community group fight unfair bank charges Against the loud revving on the street and jangly beats of a dance class in Easton Community Centre, a new campaign was born tonight and looks poised and ready to tackle injustice on the streets. The issue is the rapid increase of cash machines …
A few years ago, I had a large harmless growth in my left armpit, called a lipoma. I had to get it removed as it was growing and had reached the size of half a grapefruit. After the surgery, the medical staff told me they had decided to keep me in, as they wanted to …
We roll out of the house glowing like pigs in blankets Blinking, heavier, more cholestorol in our heart, less zeros in the bank, more Santas on the mantelpiece. You can still see the imprint of TV behind your eyelids and hear the shouting about half-price mattresses and sofas, but it’s time to leave the sofa …
I hadn’t closed my heart properly, there was still a draught although I’m not saying I left it as open as a door. I may have been careless, I may have been thinking about my umbrella or looking for my car. I left my heart ajar.
She always had mints in it, extra strong or chewy ones chewing gum Loose bits of tobacco stuck to everything and inside the lipstick, eighties brown