Jackson

The moon is not full as I look up at three o’clock in the morning trying to lead him by the hand to my front door   He will not take my hand   He puts his hand on my butt instead and we walk to my front door in the cloudmoon dark having kissed and kissed   I pause and Read more

That morning in the supermarket we queued with full trolleys, six deep at the thirteen checkouts. It was busier than Christmas and transcendently calm. Not one baby cried not one child misbehaved not one parent shouted no-one sighed or frowned and no-one flirted. Outside, our cars and houses waited among the trees. Some of us Read more