Tuesday, June 30

The way Tuesday began

Tongues of steam curl from my mostly-drunk tea. Outside a blackbird hops, yellow flowers exalt.

Sunday, June 28

windowsill, evening

at the heart of the dead dark glass of wine, a bulb of shining red

Saturday, June 27

Friday, June 26

she cries for seven seconds, and then she is ashamed

Thursday, June 25

too much of a good (sticky toffee pudding) thing

Wednesday, June 24

Overheard conversation about disappointment

-I just don't think that men think in the same way as women, to be honest.
-Oh no, no, they don't.

Tuesday, June 23

Monday, June 22

Sunday, June 21

the lawn is clotted with clover, occasional buttercups

Saturday, June 20

Friday, June 19


Fatty spots a spotted thrush through the morning kitchen window.

Thursday, June 18

After talking of death in a small room, I walk to the fish and chip shop. The church bells peal.

Wednesday, June 17

white foxgloves lean in the shade, hiding their dark scarlet spattered throats

Tuesday, June 16

a dark green plastic chair
the day rises up to hold me

Monday, June 15

A middle aged man wearing old-fashioned glasses, an ironed shirt and neatly combed hair, he shows me his 'before' photo. A bearded drunk, raging.

Sunday, June 14

Saturday, June 13

English breakfasts taste best when scoffed with friends

Friday, June 12

I thought daily small stones were weighing my pockets down. Instead they tether me to the world, lightly.

Thursday, June 11

putting me off my Orangina

the fingerprint fossil of a lipstick stain on the lip of the glass

Wednesday, June 10

my hand around the waist of this sexy Fanta bottle woman

Tuesday, June 9

This blackbird with a snapped and sticking-out wing feather has been spotted several times in the past week, hopping under the feeders for seed. I worry about her.

Monday, June 8

I wear my new shiny red car like the most expensive designer dress

Sunday, June 7

On the mat to greet me this morning

An organ, neatly excised by sharp teeth, rests on a faint blood stain. A bean. It was not wanted.

Saturday, June 6

Evening, the light begins to seep away

Daisy dots glow white, white, white. Corvids swirl and sink towards sleep.

Friday, June 5

Thursday, June 4

poor mole, curled up on the drive and very still

Wednesday, June 3

Tiny money spider floats in the space between body and screen.
Pause: consider the wonder of his silk-thread manufacture!

Tuesday, June 2

Monday, June 1

In death there is beauty

Dead beetle on the path, his belly shining bronze, flipped over his wings a pair of iridescent green-blue jewels.