I’m entranced by lighting stores
imagining our kitchen
and how it would feel when one day
you were home.
I haven’t been kissed in so long.
When everyone is tucked
between bedsheets stuffed with
love and honeycomb (because
A car alarm breaks the stillness.
You roll onto your side and mutter something empty,
the breeze carries flutes from Bacchic hills
through the sometimes portal of your curtains,
five bells toll in some distant church
and the future, my love, can wait another day.
I changed my lipstick three times
ironed my shirt
borrowed my mum’s shoes.
Shakespeare looked at his laptop. He shifted uncomfortably and read once more the task he had to end: to write 15 lines of poetry for his creative writing subject. He hadn’t written much; he was sort of gazing at the wall and remarking how pale and white it was. He looked back at his screen to read what he’d writ. From. An excellent word for an hour of work.21 May 2018