Tucking one arm behind her, throwing out the other; up front and on bended knees, looking rather pleased, she says, very sweetly, I invented these. Dusting down the figurines, endless cups of tea, combing crumbs from the sofa, keeps the window clean - sunlight pouring in. He says, I invented these. Tweezing splinters from her … Continue reading The Inventors.
Coupled beneath heavy blankets they dozed, untroubled by weather; inspired, betroved. After first, second, third, breakfast, they rose; shadows in candlelight glow, unclothed. The kissing of hallowed relics in Durham is allowed, I’ve heard. As is the giving of chips to crows. In the cenotaph garden at Amble, the clocks are still, for the living. … Continue reading The Best of Whitney Houston.
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