Sign up to our newsletter
All night Tippi and I lie with our armswrapped around each otherlike rope.I bury my face in her neckand she wakes every now and thento kiss the top of my head
I have been here once before – It was a long time ago, I don't remember when.But as my father handed me the axe-headImages exploded in my brain.
I’ve seen those tough as oaks
weep like willows
even the hardest thugs can have tear stained pillows
most can’t see the forest for the trees
He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.
Give me a smilewith lips stretched wide as a rubber bandand in between a set of straight white teethdazzling like a mirror ball.
Your mother made me
just in case, she said,
which kinda freaked me out,
so I said to her,
Da Man is fine, babe.
Nell drives and we don’t speak.
Every limb is numb
My mind is racing
Kicking the pebbles along Eastbourne beach
as the orange-pink of sunset
plays with the ebbing tide,
my mother asks…
Tippi can't stand clowns.Dragon is terrified of cockroachesand Mom of mice.Dad pretends to be fearless,though I've seen him flinch when the mail arrivesseen him hide
I have your smile
when I look in the mirror I see you
I have your laugh
So when I chuckle I hear you
I have your humour
when I’m sharing jokes I owe it to you