Gezeiten Tiden One day she must turn her back to us holding another’s hand awaying her from shore’s safe shoulders. May my cries weave feather dresses my pain grow wings. Advertisements
white EU migrant woman & black Caribbean British Canadian man ‘What is I beheld?’ ‘Past tense from I behold.’ ‘But what’s that in non-Shakespearean-English?’ ‘It’s real English. It’s like (pauses) I behold that tree’ (gestures with his arm somewhere outside) ‘Like I see that tree?’ ‘Like Fuck! Check this tree out!’ Behold that man.
autumn flutters by leaves fat with colour and glow dance with darkness (turn the volume up to hear the sound of autumn…)
A friend has offered me her space on the Sussex coast while she and her partner are travelling. A space with a cabin and a caravan, chicken and greenhouses, fruit trees and wood pigeons, a kitchen and WiFi. A space to escape from a hectic summer with a few blows – the shock of Brexit, the discomfort of a back injury, the uncertainties of my relationship that’s now come to a sudden full-stop in mid-air. […]
falling landing falling . both