Sometimes there’s a tissue in the wash
Sometimes there’s a tissue in the wash. The washing machine goes on as normal. But later, when you’re checking how long there is left in the cycle, you see it – front and centre – lodged in the rubber seal between the drum and the door. I didn’t check the pockets/ No one ever checks…
Moths
I wonder about moths. They need (moon)light to navigate their lives, even to the point of perceiving which way is up. Presumably, they recognise the cold quality of the light of the moon. Yet, in the early morning, as I commute through country lanes under a clear January sky, while the moon sits on high,…
Mind Works
A poem written while on codeine. Mr Tourniquet in cubicle 6 watches the birds from his window. His environs are faded yellow and blue; his soundtrack a series of beeps. They bring him tablets and jugs of water; they take his order for lunch. He pretends he’s not seeing, hearing and smelling, but has nothing…
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‘Glasshouse’ image by Liam Powell http://facebook.com/liampowellart
Morwenna Blackwood, Author 