The Good Husband

“Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say kind of turn themselves into blades.” Was it because I said yes? And if so, which yes was it? After that early no, which capitulation was the one? Was it when you said I’m happy to cool it, but how ‘bout we shareContinue reading “The Good Husband”


Peace. I will stop your mouth! – Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing The couple on the television show are fighting. It’s a real-deal, humdinger argument. There have been dirty looks all day and the tension is now bubbling at their lids. We get lots of uncharacteristic yelling as the former lovers throw subtext-laden accusations backContinue reading “Heart”

(and sometimes the same) revisited

At different moments throughout the day (and sometimes the same) they will reach for their phones, a reflexive text forming in their fingers that stops somewhere before the keys. Desire is put back in the pocket reluctantly as fingers twitch with observations of sky and city that remain unsent. At different moments (and sometimes theContinue reading “(and sometimes the same) revisited”

Room Service

Hotel beds remind. The pink powder scent and unyielding sheets. Toes pushing up against clinging cotton, fingers drawing on threaded walls – there are things the body remembers in a room that hums. Bath. Wine. Bed. I said at the start. No room service? you replied. And I said that it would come … but much,Continue reading “Room Service”


You were shattered after that first betrayal, you disappeared on me the next morning. It took two full weeks. Then the little red flag and your name. –   Hi. –   Hi … –   I’ve been thinking about you, Mags. How are you going? –   Fine. (I am bristling at your disappearance. You never even botheredContinue reading “Ellipsis”


It takes me three weeks. I can’t find the words, not even a single sound to encourage introduction. The closest moment was also the first, when I saw her there stirring the coffee a little too long. The rhythmic turning of the spoon, sleeves pulled down low over her hands, she never once looked upContinue reading “Overture”

Same Script, Different Cast

The morning you died was ordinary enough. Oliver muddled tennis and violin, we were half way to school when he said Mom, I need my violin. Mom. An affectation from too much American TV, my girlfriends and I had noticed the same habit in all of our kids lately, the way they rolled their r’sContinue reading “Same Script, Different Cast”