Uvita River Dirt I wrote this in March 2020 🙂 I’ve also, embarrassingly, recorded myself reading my failed National Poetry Competition entry out loud, in case you’d rather watch me stumble over my words than read it yourself. Disclaimer: I’m wearing an inappropriately see-through leopardskin leotard because this is my lockdown uniform. It’s not something…
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Will I always feel like this? Like swamp mud Viscous, formless. I need warm, firm hands To sculpt me into something Recognisable Like a woman, or a tree. I wish I was a fearless Roman Goddess Or an African warrior with my Tits out. I would invite death To pierce my soft underside, And then…
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It’s not that I want to be like this. It’s just that I exist in bits — cells I can’t quite contain. And if I can’t, then who can? Once I was offered a ring and I thought, What would happen if I committed to him In a legal and public way? Would I suddenly…
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It’s a classic silence-breaker question. If you could invite anyone in the world to a dinner party, alive or dead, who would it be and why? I have four guests at mine, and here’s the first. Oh and before you ask, we’re having pasta bake. Leonard Cohen This was the man who wrote the line:…
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