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South
Welcome to London. That’s all I keep thinking as I hammer my finger into the pedestrian crossing button.
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East
In the distance, the breakwaters surface irregularly. The intervals come and go; small shoals dashing to the surface.
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Mother: Nature
I’m stuck In the nighttime- In the cracks of my ceiling- In the yellow corridors of the hospital ward.
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Pomegranate
my skin and hers- all four corners of the earth sparkling some sweet lustre that my fingers pry and pluck like feathers.
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The freedom of the frog
the frog finds a gap in my skin; it sinks below- sits underneath, some huge bulge which i prod until it settles down
