White lines

A whiff of mildew in the bottom of my dirty clothes basket travels me to the memory of the old out-buildings at the back of my childhood house in Wycheproof. There was a laundry and another two rooms adjoining. The rooms are distinct and yet also hazy at the edges of...

‘At Sea’

‘At Sea’ He dives. Can hold his breath a long time. Thatha has passed to him this knowledge long ago. Strange boats in the harbour, water undulating, currents colder by edges, these steel flanks    he has no words for   their size, the...