The air in Rome is dirty. I can feel it weighing on my chest. Each breath heavy with the fumes of busy city life. I realise how spoiled I am to have grown up in the country with air clean and crisp like cut glass. A man in workman’s trousers, a thin puffer jacket, and a blue baseball cap, sharpens knives collected from the surrounding restaurants and cafes in the boot of his car. The grinding noise blends into the hubbub of sirens, car engines, and motorbikes busying the street below. We are on the first floor of the apartment block we are staying in, in Via Silvestri. Opposite us, varieties of pine and palm trees, grow up taller than the blocks of flats they lean close to. Down on the street, a man wheels three crates, overflowing with rocket, around the corner. Matthew is working on his paper for Friday. We drink espresso, with a bowl of olives and cold cured meats that we bought yesterday from a local delicatessen, between us. In an hour or so, we will take a tram to the centre of Rome, and begin exploring…
Words pinch through my veins itching inching their way along
Cracking ribs and shaking heart
I am fire
Trapped in glass
I can’t move for the labels lassoed around my wrists.
You see me. Do you see me?
You can’t hear me.
Where do I start?
Well, if you’re anything like me, you will have cried from beginning to end. Continue reading
Pull Saturn’s rings
down over and around my curves.
burnt to ash by our sun,
as I writhe in stars. Continue reading
The trail leads behind me.
Not a lining,
One giant foot
Encumbered with modesty,
That covers every inch.
I cannot rip
this love from my bones.
Thorns puncture fingers
like a skewer
through a dead bird,
I can hear the skin
burst. Continue reading
Stefanie looked out from the large rock she stood high on. Everything was grey. The sea didn’t shine sapphire but glooped together liked liquid steel, instead of an azure sky above, the clouds gathered ashen, the stone, once warm and smooth, now seemed cold and sharp as sediment gathered in the cracks.
“Hmm?” Stefanie turned around to see Continue reading
This poem is written in response to Charlotte Smith’s ‘Sonnet: On Being Cautioned Against Walking on an Headland Overlooking the Sea, Because It Was Frequented by a Lunatic‘.
Cursed with reason
you remain bound
like corset to body.
Ribbon wound tight, Continue reading
I wrote this piece in my Writing Poetry module at University. We were asked to write down an experience or memory in 50words, then to condense it down to 20words, and then to transform it into a haiku. Continue reading
I see through you.
A black night
creates a blackened mind. Continue reading