Lizzie Siddal in the Bath My fourth drowning this week. For the first hour I float, removed to a muffled world, white tin beneath my…
On Clouds Accumulated exhalations of the oceans, future shadows, horizon’s trees, how in heaps, layers and curls of hair through thermal convection or frontal lifting…
Slipping She has eight days to check each morning’s haul, to claim her own. Every week, since his boat sailed up the Thames to Rotherhithe…
Reflections Hush boys, keep your hissed whispers to yourselves, and listen… to the water bubbling fruitfully, coloured with all the pastel of a bruise. See…
The Second Story of the Country House at Aegae She is a siren. A woman sings, I shall call her Lorraine, For now. It is…
Early Morning Swim I’m too early to swim so I kill time wandering through Brixton, the moon still out over Atlantic Road, Electric Avenue. It’s…
Solo A day from home she feels as tall as the mast she lashed one roaring night, radio down, listing but alive. When the uncharted…
The Lake at Night The lake at night is still, The surface smooth as paper And black as heaven’s ink. Stars are written on the…
The Final Raindrop A crowd has gathered, everyone on Earth Stands on the ocean bed, Staring into the sky. They are waiting: It was measured…
The Third Story of the Country House at Aegae I reflect on the rain. I asked for you, When I was on the cross, “I’m…
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