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Flash Fiction & Poems

The tickets were cheap

The tickets were cheap, the promise sweeter than our mangoes. In Brixton, the ship long gone, we have our first taste of snow & resentment.

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In the heat of the argument

In the heat of the argument he once more reminds her of his love of greener pastures. At dawn she leaves behind her keys & his perceptions.

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She cuts up his shirts

She cuts up his shirts as if he were still in them. First the sleeves, then the back, then the collars. She sleeps among the shreds.

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We do not practice a suitable distance

We do not practice a suitable distance & so within minutes we are lip locked, our bruises nothing more than day-old pats of over affection.

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In the tiny seaside town the widow Luz

In the tiny seaside town the widow Luz plays Mary Magdalene to the banished minister. In such isolation, the washing of feet brings scandal.

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