I looked at my beautiful new wings / but shuddered at my old ones / and all the dust they bring.
There are roots I’ve always known which wrap around my arms, holding me deep inside the earth, breathing my breath. … More
‘How are we anchored to docks and harbours rolling on tide surfing out, pitching us in towards mud and to face departing silence?’
Fevered fury creeps up my neck and throttles my words with filthy, scarred fingers. I’m chained powerless to a chair, … More