Maggie Sawkins lives in Portsmouth, England, where she runsTongues & Grooves Poetry and Music Club. Her two collections areCharcot’s Pet (Flarestack, 2003) and The Zig Zag Woman (Two Ravens Press, 2007). Her work has been published and reviewed in many journals and anthologies. Maggie is a creative writing tutor and teacher of students with specific learning difficulties. At […]
I have come to translate the silence. I’ve bought paper and pencils and a pair of small ears. I ask you not to disturb me until the task is done. First I will unwrap the ears and place them face up on the floor. You will observe their strangeness these tiny shallows […]
A month’s respite doesn’t stop the heart tilting in its cradle at the knock, the scene replayed before I open the door. I know from her expression what it is she wants, but still she asks, and I fetch, like a dog, hand over the score, notice once more the half-moon scar […]
I will walk up a path policed by poplars the sky will be cloudless and blue. In my hand an empty suitcase scented with lavender, swinging. A patient will skitter past in raincoat and scarlet slippers and I’ll tip my head. In front of a circle of lawn and gothic fountain will […]
Although he came from the mountains (this much I learnt) he didn’t understand my words for snow. I fluttered my fingers in front of him but he only saw the wings of birds. I led him to the window wrapped myself in my arms at the shivering sky but he […]
Leaf, you no longer know what it means to be a leaf under a stone. You’ve got too used to the cold slab weight of it. Absence of light has turned you into a wafer of veins a leafshadow. One skipping day a child will come and kick away the […]
She got used to the birds flying around the house except for the days when their cawing filtered through the floorboards and even the dog was afraid. When friends or relations came the birds disappeared through the windows and waited on the roof top or under the eaves. One day […]
She knew how to die – the earth around her stem was so dry it refused the water we poured there and though, like a ritual, we snapped off each bruised cluster before it had time to fall, […]