Tag: Prosery
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26.03: Let the Last Breath Linger
Prosery: Let the Last Breath Linger some memories, like thin bells,vanishing, a song faint and low. A summer of being. Thirteen. Surrendering my mornings to the public library—piles of books, biblichor, waiting quiet as secrets. Quiet as a librarian’s finger to her lips: shush. I devoured the Dewey Decimal System. It became a fiery furnace…
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5 December: dVerse Prosery
I Was Where I Am I was standing at the kitchen sink, the cold tap turned on just enough to slide the egg and bacon fat off the plates. Standing there, staring down the street toward the old oak tree that nearly burnt when the pub had that kitchen fire a few years ago. Thinking…
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16 August: dVerse Prosery
Vanished She’s learning about sound barriers at school. Sound. Speed. Aeroplanes. Red lights on the left. Green lights on the right. Like Christmas lanterns flashing on steel wings. “Flash. Flash. Flash,” she calls out to the hundreds of faces up there. People flying through rain coloured clouds, over roads and Tobermory-colour houses. She watches the…
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12 April: dVerse Prosery
“The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart.” ~ from “Winged Words”, Valsa George You should’ve told me. Your first daughter. Eldest. The one you told, Watch over your little sister. You should’ve told me that you were dying. You should’ve known that I was not a fragile flower. My petals don’t fall…
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12 October: dVerse Prosery
This Summer Boy This summer boy of tide pools and kelp forests. He plays in waves while grains of an hourglass slip from under his feet. Up to his waist. He’s afraid to move. Afraid to call for help. He hears a chaos of language from the shore. His legs tangle in the long reach…
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11 May 2021: dVerse Prosery
Prose: A Peripheral View The clouds open like windows for her – red billowing fields of wild poppies, dabs of Monet white-washed daisies. Spring rain allows nothing to stay asleep for long. Cornflowers will come along next in this wide green world. The air flutters with colour, and her thoughts are an utter abandonment of…
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dVerse Prosery
We’re sat opposite each other. She’s drowning milky foam into her coffee. I’m telling her about this poem, has this imperturbable street. She looks up from her coffee. Stares at me. Yeah, imperturbable. What does it mean, she says. I admit I didn’t know either, so I knocked bits off the word, first “im”, then…
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