by Justine D | May 18, 2020 | Short Stories
The Lesson in Dhansak Clip-clap, splosh and flop as my 1950’s Clarks shoes hit the cobbled street, trickling wet-grey with morning rain. We walk, all three. I swing in the middle, attached like an appendage to my Father and Uncle. I am that flesh-link between older...
by Justine D | May 18, 2020 | Short Stories
The low clickety-click of the faulty carriage clock continues its muffled sound as it has done for generations. It was The Mother’s pride and joy. The brass mechanism’s carcass, an ugly beast of veined marble and gilt towering on the mantelpiece for as long as Marge...
by Justine D | May 18, 2020 | Poetry
There is my mother on a flagstone floor, curled around her smaller sibling like a foetus, a tortoise withdrawn under a kitchen table hoping the whine won’t stop, praying the bombs don’t fall as she clutches the shreds of her dispersed family. This is my mother in...
by Justine D | May 18, 2020 | Poetry
You lay in my heart, as you lie there still in deep earth, you sleep, our blood shared until a fiery death. Now you are gone. Apart from you in sorrow I hold close your soul. Your eyes mirror mine in a half vision, in a life less than whole without you. Cherry drains...
by Justine D | May 18, 2020 | Poetry
You pulled me up as I lay in the wet grass, gently grasped my hand, not hurting as when you lived. Where is your hair? I queried. Your pate is bald. See those green tendrils? you said. Pluck them for me. I have lost all my own strands. I harvested whole sheaves and...
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