Skin against skin, we lie;
breathing each other’s breath
we slowly suffocate.
kisses
Tag: original poem
net value
In the moonlight
giant moths
gather on my bedroom wall
Actually, it’s the light of a street lamp, and therefore they only gather there until midnight and from 5:30am as the local council switch the lights off during the darkest part of the night to save energy.
And, of course, they aren’t quite moths. But they are near enough to have made me think about the poor creatures trapped in the net of the curtains and want to put the thought down here in case I can use it at some point in the future.
seasonal nostalgia
The tail end of summer always makes me slightly nostalgic.
Every time I see blackberries growing in the hedgerow, I remember that one of the few good things about going back to school after the long summer holidays was knowing that we would go blackberrying the next weekend. 
iridescences
I’m back in the village and back to posting pictures of dead bugs. After all, when they’re this beautiful, how can I resist?
The bugs in the poem below aren’t dead. They are, however, as bright as jewels in the early morning sunshine.
Continue reading “iridescences”
the afterwash
Monday
Wind paunches the belly
of a wifebeater while
blue-black denims drip.
The kitchen drain belches suds
and she ponders ironing
white collars.
don't confuse the narrator 