Old man death, you stand before my door and I have no food to offer, no children to give, no goat to bleed, no tears to weep. Old man death, you stand before my door and bid me enter you in, but I am weak and cannot fight for the time you take. Continue reading “Pabo, who is alone”
A dark moon rose in your face the day you told me this wasn’t your place; this wasn’t: your desire, your need, your aim and with every letter your love was tamed until all I had was a box of regretful lines, apologies and grace until all our future became a hard ugly waste. Continue reading “enmeshment”
When I lost my heart I thought I’d lost something weak, something breakable and meek. But finding it, to my surprise, I had a heart that was strong, loving and wise.
Mireille works at the brothel at the end of Rue d’Amboise. She doesn’t mind what she does; it keeps her in stockings and absinthe – and paint, which is a very expensive item for a very expensive hobby for a woman such as herself, Madame always tells her. ‘But why not have expensive tastes whenContinue reading “Mireille”
Inquisitive darting to and fro With no real place to go but this way Or that and you’re so tremendously Fat for your kind Place my finger above the bowl and watch You taste and with apparent distaste for the Morsel that it isn’t twist your Transparent chemical delicate bone a small cut Into fleshContinue reading “Gold fish”