All The Time There Are Things But Not Here

There it is again The silence So big it creates a physical presence in the room   She feeds silence her cup of tea She sits on her bed and they converse, As she stares at the ceiling. Silence strokes her cheek and gathers her tears. It whirls around her like a hurricane.   Somewhere there is more than this. There is noise There is … Continue reading All The Time There Are Things But Not Here

Apple Pie

Mum had a habit of eating the entirety of an apple. The peel, the fruit, the core; all the apple would disappear. The first time I saw her leave an apple core unchallenged, Henry had made a comment, a jibe trying to be a joke that didn’t quite pay off. Henry was always doing that – trying to challenge my mother, to unsettle her. But in his passive aggressive cunning, he didn’t notice the way her eyes glazed over, and how, like hitting restart on a computer, she’d shut down for a short time before putting her face of normality back on and delivering a similarly sharp retort that snapped his neck to the ground with embarrassment. Mum was always doing that – trying to put him in his place, pushing him out of our circle.

Continue reading “Apple Pie”