What I hated about mezze was a spider that spread his picnic-blanket net, sat like a roman in the centre as dishes flung themselves around his plate. That spider never doubted,
I should’ve been asleep, but sat upright clasping a cup of cold coffee to my chest and listening out for everyone who hadn’t met yet… Remember the Brandywell Lane bus stop
In retail this is called ‘facing up’, to turn the products forward so they can be eyed by customers. The sergeant lined women like this, like tins, tied rags around their eyes.
Normally, you can tell. Now, I am not supposed to be here. Usually: the duvet would be flung theatrically across the bed, proclaiming: I’ve been slept in; bra hung from a lamp shade,
The post woman unzips the drive, letterbox peaks open, then shuts sharply, eyelids heavy, lashes interlocked like a Venus flytrap. She puts handwritten letters on top,