in the crackling mobile
in the nervous dark
from the harbour walls
to the swell of sadness
brushing at specks on a beloved's shoulder;
unconscious acts of familiarity, hand or wrist
taken when walking, and the whole body turning
in towards and touching the other, hip to chest. Love.
that disturb the graves beyond the fence.
Gate sentries have been seen to follow,
with their gunsights, a highflying crow
or gull, say "Bang." The dogs are left unburied,
grave rags and pink bones partially uncovered.
the other's every breath, this one man advertises
his love, beams his pleasure in his lover's recovery.
Other prisoners look on this enactment of love's gestures
with dumb wonder, recall themselves being fathers,
that same gentling kiss upon a son's sharp hair,
headslant smile of companionship to a beside-them wife.
If you are reading this and you write, in whatever genre, and are thinking “ooh, I’d like to do this” then you can… just email me and I’ll send you the questions. You complete them, I tweak them where appropriate (if necessary to reflect the blog ‘clean and light’ rating) and then they get posted. When that’s done, I email you with the link so you can share it with your corner of the literary world. And if you have a writing-related blog / podcast and would like to interview me… let me know.