It wasn’t something she’d intended
Midnight, and horses came, led by the whitest one
On lawns as smooth as shining glass
It is four in the morning
The press of dancing bodies
The city shrinks
Pigeons
When I would stare at lovely clouds in Heaven
The sound of angry fists on wood
Fruit of the wrong colour
When we travel to see the eclipse, that feels wrong
History is just one view
I might as well cut my own trail
Hold the time!
He loved her like a snake loves a mouse
LIGHT
Standing on a chair to reach the light
How the fog seeps
This is us, black & white, no argument
Business as Usual
I was with her, waiting, the sirens were a long way off
Lying like a cheap watch
He had to kill the dog first
He ran, with pebbles in his throat
The Collier’s Wife
Somewhere near Charing Cross
Mary Jones was twelve years old
Some places are just sad
Hi!
Signed: Arbuthnot Grimes, Deceased.
Chicken!
Her mother’s name was Tears
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