You say, Meet me here. It’s not far. You can work out the route. You say this at the far end of the sofa the middle has sunk down to form a cavern that I cannot navigate. Separated by this cavern by this cushion your arm straddles the gap to my side like a handlebar … Continue reading What can I do to help?
Mermaid, you married your house and you divorced yourself. As I pull you onboard, you seem battered by brooms, pale and lifeless, hanging like linen as I had expected. Draped around you is a flannel shirt and apron made of hot-pots and Tupperware boxes covered in eggs and spit. White dish cloths cling to your … Continue reading Housewife Lost at Sea
The small wooden box on her mantelpiece was stainedwith echoes of her paper-thin fingertips tapping the lid, lingering in the mist of dust. The lid arched like herback and the box was engraved in gold which matched the mustard-coloured fade-marks on the Persian rug.I ran my finger across the top. It felt like gravel. Touching … Continue reading An Elegy for a Box
Once, I was promised eternal youthbut I turned it down.In my nightgown, with wrinkled hands,a slightly scratched wedding ring and plaguedby a constant urge to sigh,I can’t help but wonder, dear, what you are doing now. How hungry I was for that fairy-dusted midnight sky!How sensible I was in closing the curtains,eventually. Before I was … Continue reading Wendy
When it comes to writing fiction, I really struggle to write without some form of prompt. Perhaps this comes from being an English teacher where students' exams almost always included the question: 'write a narrative about this (usually boring) picture/topic.' So here I am, giving myself some prompts kindly provided by the internet so I … Continue reading 30 WEEK WRITING CHALLENGE
Left Hand, the lesser, in splints; Trauma victim, cut by a chipped plant-pot. On a sickly, creamy, fleshy backdrop, I see pink-tipped blushing finger prints, Heart lines, life lines, criss-crossed sharp lines, Strained veins that pull towards my palm, Broken, by the crescent, sickle-shaped scar: The stitched-up frown of my flesh shines. Now look at … Continue reading A Sonnet to Left Hand
Hello! My name is Emily and this will be my first blog post where I tell you about boring me and why I am writing a blog. Firstly, I hate writing about myself, so don't get used to it. I'm going to write in bullet points to make this easier. I'm from Yorkshire (God's Own … Continue reading A little bit about me…