On the naughty stair, Rebecca
chews up a miniature cheese biscuit,
spits the slurry of it
onto another dry one
then prods a Sunmaid raisin
into the jaundiced paste.
The girl prepares a plateful
arranged in neat concentric circles
then leaves them on a windowsill to set,
aims for the peaks of sophistication
as flaunted in the beam of lifestyle mags
which slid from Sunday’s supplements
as if embezzled, pyrite fish
as flustered as kindling
and let go like flailing slinks
of couture jewellery, falling,
slipped from the nets of trawlers
hauling an otherwise grey,
always fidgeting swag.
Overhead the ceiling damp
steadily accumulates
in its scribbly constellations
and in the master bedroom
your mother thrashes with a duvet cover
like agitated wind against tarpaulin.
What did you think
Comments
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she writes!!!!!
and it's life, i love the movement and sound in this Claire, it has spinning heads..
yes
yes
yes
i shall be back
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Cheers for reading it. I used to get shitloads of reads on here and now barely any. I must have gone way way down hill. I just finished my ma so was having loads of good, deep criticism all the time but now everyone's just doing their dissertations and have buggered off home and so we can't workshop as much so I thought I'd see if I could get people to read me on ap again. Epic fail!
It means a lot that you read it. Thanks. How are you? Did you go to owt in the international festival? Why was it so expensive!? Did you see Rufus' flouncy opera? I badly wanted to go to punchdrunk but it sold out so quickly x
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