street’s memoir
silent observer,are you tired yet?let me help youtell your story. here, you saw the couple:young.in love. arguing andmaking up. there, a girl trailed throughthe rain – let the bussplash waterat her feet. and here you sawthousands of peoplegoing about life. speak, please – sorry, i forgot.you’re silent. leave me myguessing game: i shall make up …
unwinding
she unwinds from the daythe moment she walksin the door. shoes are kicked off andlain on the rack;keys, deposited in a bowl by thedoor and bags droppedunder the table. the stiff blazer is droppedover the back of a chairas she walks in sock-feet tothe lounge. swaps suits for worn-outcottonand tugs a blanket off theback of …
wanderlost
she flicks the mapthat takes up one-third ofwall space.on her desk, there’s aspinning globe: sometimesshe taps it to set it rotating. unfocuses her eyes and lets the worldblur past. she makes a list,writing alphabetically,reverse-alphabeticallyand flips it around again. scrambles the order, calls uponline travel literature. in the evening shecrams in language, makesflashcards of grammar. she’ll go …
the cave
a cave formsin the forest.sometimes, in her modest moodsshe calls it a backyardbut miles offlora isn’t a yard. she takes a backpack andlaces up hiking shoes.if she walks too fastthey clip at her anklebone.sometimes, the bruiseslast for days. if the weather permitsshe reaches the cave,half-formed though it is.when she first came hereit didn’t existand she …
in infinity
she dwells ininfinity. the world isold, new –wildly changing. shemakes no effort tofind one safe place. instead, she roams:goes wherever soundsinteresting atpresent. she doesn’t ever staylong enoughto make ahistory.(prefers to cyclethroughpeople and apartments) each year she’sdisplaced,discomforted – -and everytime she is ablank slate.(no-one knows herin her entirety,after all) and so it goesthat she callsmany placesher …
after midnight
at 2 a.m., there’s totalstillness.the curtains are drawn,heavy and thick, blocking outall light. in the quiet of the cottagethere’s no stimuli.no traffic, no sirens rushing bysetting the night alight withcoloured noise. outside a cicada chirpsthen falls silent. there’s nothing. in the bleak dark of nightthere’s nothing to see,no need for pretension.no need to do anything.
the lamb
she draws up herbattle plan,pulls on cloak and hood. she writes,cataloguing a long listof disapprovers. they allhave one thing in common:when pressed, they findsomething to changeabout her. she makes her list,checks it over.no need to add spelling and grammar,syntax,to her list of repairable traits. she inlays a ruleof thirty-three. this, she once readis how long it …
Midweek Sale: “Well Heeled” Cotton Scrunchie
This scrunchie features a print of high-heels, boots and shoes with a delicate scrawl, in tones of pink, gray and creamy white. It’s hand-sewn from a thick cotton and contains a thick elastic band inside. Cost includes postage. 6 in stock.
invisible girl
the invisible girl draws a thin coat around herself. it’s been raining, and it would be cold if it weren’t for the fact that the sun now beats down on the ground. if she looks hard enough, she’d almost swear that she can see the shimmer of water evaporating. water doesn’t shimmer when it evaporates, she chides …
tea kettle
water drips down the side of the tea kettle as it fills under the tap, making a quick hissing sound as it’s placed on the stove-top to boil. the condensation forms fast, tiny water drops spilling over and slicing ribbons through the sheen of water. in the next room, she’s talking. she hisses an emphasis …
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