She married the heir was what they said. I was four, already in love with the ballroom’s cornices, the bride’s dress. What I heard was married the air. I chose my future then. The air is a good provider. He has given me one house of sky, one house of silk. I love his … Continue reading ‘The Aerialist’ by Cheryl Pearson
Tag: Pindrop Press
‘The Mermaid Aquarium’ by Cheryl Pearson
A month or two at most, I told myself; a place to catch my breath. The long, dry haul of my body’s bulk along the shingle, up the beach, the dragged slug of my tail a mess of scrapes. A wake of salt and scale all the way to the waterline. I can’t complain; it’s … Continue reading ‘The Mermaid Aquarium’ by Cheryl Pearson
‘On the Fence’ by Sharon Black
On the Fence The view’s not bad. Between the patchwork of prejudice and the roll of logic, on a clear day you can see right across to the Cairngorms, rising like indignation in the distance. No need for reason this high up. The grass is green whichever way you look. Sometimes I amuse myself with … Continue reading ‘On the Fence’ by Sharon Black
‘Her story’ by Abegail Morley
Her story I. Inside where the darkness stops, her bones are soft, pliable, her head half her weight. She curls in the curve of the crescent moon. Week 28, she feels pain. Inhales, exhales; downy hair covers her skin, like his. Waters break. II. Her room’s changed shape, dimension. No longer measured crown to … Continue reading ‘Her story’ by Abegail Morley
A poem by Sharon Black
House of Swan You strike and I flare inside a cage of ice, dance the dance you taught me as a cygnet when you made me walk across your cigarette’s flicked ash. Too narrow for the spread of wings but wide enough to gaze for hours at my reflection as bones fused into shapes … Continue reading A poem by Sharon Black
‘Through Carved Wooden Binoculars’ by Sarah Salway
Through Carved Wooden Binoculars 1. I want to carve you some wooden binoculars. 2. I want to sew you a suit from slivers of bark. 3. I want to run up and down your body like an ant. 4. I want to take each one of your feet and bury it in earth. 5. … Continue reading ‘Through Carved Wooden Binoculars’ by Sarah Salway
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