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You’ve crossed the globe to be here, yet you can’t take the last few steps. Stone fences speckled with age, salute your long shadow. The smell — musty slate roofs, moist dirt — stretches an arm and waits for you to take it. You remain motionless. Houses outlive us, you think, the paved streets too, those… Continue reading A two-beat waltz
She’s sitting alone at the second to last row of empty chairs in the dim foyer where the poetry readings are. I wonder where I’ve seen her — is she a doctor, a nurse, one of James’s therapists? Her sneakers, like the white paws of a black cat, are the single diversion from her black… Continue reading The Bard’s Wife
Is it February Seventeenth?, Manu wonders, standing on the kerb of Church street. The flowers in his hand, where did he get them from? Not from the Pharmacy, he hasn’t crossed the street yet. Wild daisies with curly roots and soil stuck to them. From the riverbank then, he thinks, but has no recollection of… Continue reading Flowers for Meredith
Rostislava Pankova-Karadjova 