Some old favourites…

Rent (Six Sentences)

His flat hand made contact with her cheek, like a storm driven wave slapping against the wood of a moored coracle. Her lips tightened into plumped up pods, and her jaw inched forward just slightly, making her moon face gently regal. His eyes groped the floor, wondering where the fuck that had come from and how he would be able to anchor her in his arms and make her understand how much she filled him. Her cocoa-colored lips split open for an instance, then closed firmly again, wrapped fat and full around the silence. He couldn’t raise his eyes. The door’s click resounded like his hand against her face as he shut it firmly behind him.

*

On my Father (Ranfurly Review)

I met you nine times. Memories

peppered like bluebells skirting

your caravan home; that first

mango, sprats, a hand built

pond and oak-dashboard Mini.

Your secret young wife; a melon

deseeded. You, forty six years

her senior; I imagine – burning sienna

landscapes alive with kora, djembe

jola song; your bride´s pagne.

Your cursive scrawl on tattered

postcards still records your mark in

African shores. Does she think of you

fondly? Or did your pale sagged

skin grasping the kola nuts repel her?

Your death make you her saviour?