"I wanted to read or hear the narrative of someone else – a woman and a poet – who has gone here and been there." (Eavan Boland 1944-2020) 🚫 #VAWG
(i) Woman, Fragmenting Out of reach of Bach's Rescue Remedy, she free-falls through 2, 1, G to the basement. Wifemask says she's fine, hides behind her Prozac smile, offers cake and tea, nods and nods. Wearing her disguise, she lies While chemicals scramble signals, sparks refuse synaptic gaps, the machine malfunctions, cables snap, she swallows [...]
PEARLS AT BLACKFRIARS For his Winter’s Tale, Master Shakespeare calls for a covered stage with the scent of candle-grease and orange-peel heavy on the air. There must be torches to give movement to shadows and life to the statue; and for Hermione’s face – tincture of pearl, crushed. With this bowl of [...]
Self Portrait as She Wolf You sheer away from the warm, many-tailed beast, spurn the communal dream. Beyond the shelter of pine and fir you lope across open ground where cold scalds your lungs, feel a soft-nosed bullet’s kiss, lick the salt wound clean, almost drown in a starry bog, but [...]
Poethead 
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