april 12th – 17th

every step he takes toward me is an earthquake ~ tremors, april 12th i am the mouthpiece of my mothers ~ i am woman, april 13th i pluck stars from the sky and stash them in your eyes ~ camping, april 14th i've eaten three squares of chocolate since our separation. one for each humiliation …

sunbathing

my mother once told me love is the sun ~ saturday, april 11th

home is

the eye of a storm a simple life morning coffee in bed reading the newspaper spending all day in your pyjamas love without an agenda. a fridge brimming with food afternoon naps sewing on buttons fighting over board games the invisible threads stitching us together ~ friday, april 10th

lockdown

don't go out you will catch Death and hand him over to your loved ones

showering

i am reluctant to cleanse the imprint of your body off my skin

Mad Bill Spitting

Fiona O’Brien stuffed her tattered copybook into her school bag. Porridge bubbled in the pot on the stove, the scent of warm milk and oats permeated the kitchen. She shoved her bicycle helmet on her head and turned to her mother. “Ah, Mam. Dad said that I could,” she said and clipped the buckle under …

Ground Clouds

Hey everyone, I'm going to do my utmost to write a post every day for April which ought to be no problem during this worldwide pandemic. This is a little short story I wrote several years ago, to get it kick-started, a little cheat. I'll make up for it, that and the five posts previous. …