Writer, journalist, teacher
(Published in a Cinnamon Press anthology, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, August 2008)
Cake darling? Mummy asked.
Daddy smoked with shaking hand.
She drank from her smudged whisky glass
As the cherry winked on the iced cake.
Daddy topped up his milk with Grants.
I knocked the tumbler from her hand.
She ran from the house
Cherry blossom fell in the wind.
This is a promotional video made by Unbound for the above. Thanks to Unbound for permission to use this. If any publishers like the idea of this collection, please get in touch! As you know I am now looking for another publisher as this project did not work with the excellent Unbound (see previous posts). The image here is of Alan Ross (on the left) and Ian Fleming at Fleming\’s home in Jamaica in the early 1960s.
(Published in Links, Spring 2002)
Morning Lane is falling down
and its dereliction is
like the end of time.
at 3am in the eternal night of
here, I stopped in this road
of compressed grief beneath
the sign ‘Morning Lane’
my lips mumbled ‘Morning Lane’
‘Morning Lane’ and I touched
the icon of its former self
the beginnings of its name
when milkmen’s carts clopped
over cobbles and vegetables
fruit and meat were swept in at dawn
to load the great city for its day.
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