I am glad to be part of Scryptic issue 2.1 along with poets and artists I know and/or have published in the past (mgversion2datura) or present (beakful/urtica) Bekah Steimel, Kyle Hemmings, Allison Grayhurst, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Miriam Sagan.
These poems are "It's Raining Dead Bird", "Road 6009", and "Whorehouse", the second published poem taken from Civilisé, translated form the French. Read them here.
Five years ago, my father passed away. A year after, The Loss was published through Flutter Press.
Time to promote this book again on this special day. Order it here.
first published in Deep
Water Literary Journal They were grey, marine blue or brown, you wore them everyday, synthetic fibre fabric, always sliding from cloaks, soft and thin Terylene trousers. The feel of them against my seven-year old cheek when you came back from work and I became like a foundling, some orphan in need of mercy. The night went on, the rush towards some sleep, I loved to slip in it but prior to the large dark hole I spent some time lying on the sofa watching some film from another era, a time when you and she were cuddling, exploring each other's life, accepting one another breath and mood. Yours were thick and smelly, hers never as round as they seem; both made me recoil anyway – a fright for the gremlin – except when you came back from work smelling vapours from the kitchen or when you had burned twigs and weeds in the garden and the smell of smoke lingered on your clothes. My head on your thigh, your hand repeatedly but gently brushing my blonde, straight, hair, until my eyes closed and you seemed to be ready to take me upstairs to my bed, she made with cotton sheets and feather-full cushions soothing my weariness, comforting my dismay.