I dream forgetfully, retain just a suggestion of something thwarted. My husband dreams of murder, all hands-on: noose, bludgeon, knives. He’s under orders to kill, demurs, he says, in vain. This is a man who dispatches prolapsed chickens, mice, once a muntjac fawn half-garrotted on a wire fence, a man who salts ox tongue, … Continue reading ‘Mercy’ by Kathy Pimlott
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Two poems by Kathy Pimlott
As You Are 90, I Must Be 65 There’s something wrong with the guttering: it could be nests. When it rains cataracts drown the geraniums. This is one problem. Another is the rockery, overrun by Creeping Jenny and saplings which would become a forest left to their own devices. Someone stole the lilies-of-the-valley, and the … Continue reading Two poems by Kathy Pimlott
Two poems by Kathy Pimlott
The Rookery Redux The rain collects by drains stopped up with fatbergs from the eateries, in cracks and trips of slabs laid slipshod and craftless. Step carelessly and soak your shoes. Do you belong here? Do you loop grey nets to foil the suck and growl of traffic’s heat? Do you open your windows at … Continue reading Two poems by Kathy Pimlott
‘Five Unusual Things’ by Kathy Pimlott
You open the quarter-lights, get out of the car. ‘Five minutes’ you say ‘and while I’m gone, look for five unusual things’. And I’m alone on a back street of workshops and offices. No-one appears. There are no balloons, no burglaries. Nothing disturbs the street. Two thirds up the warehouse wall the brick … Continue reading ‘Five Unusual Things’ by Kathy Pimlott