Mum died on December 21, 2018. Six months later, to the day, my wife boarded a plane bound for Abu Dhabi
*taps mic* Hello? Is this thing still on? I know I’ve deserted this place recently, that this time last year I was publishing a story a day, and I’m sorry about that, but I just wanted to let you know I’ve had my first short story published, a mere 16 months after quitting my job to chase this writing dream.
I get pulled out of class, and as the howls of derision fade, each knock of Mr Beach’s walking stick on the floor of the deserted corridor escalates The Fear inside, so that by the time I see them sitting there in his office, smiling desperate smiles, I almost don’t notice the fact they are holding hands and so something awful has happened.
I am, I hope, no more than a couple of weeks away from finishing The Last of Logan. It is all written, save for some minor editing, so I just need to ‘build’ the cards.
Too many other people,
not enough you,
in this museum,
lollygagging at my pregnant grief…
This time next week I will have submitted three poems – alongside a short story and a piece of drama – for the MA. I’ve been advised to be as bold with my poetry as […]
Ignored by his father, Boyd plays truant and walks, for days upon days, until he can walk the streets of Cape Town blindfolded. He walks through the city, out to Green Point, Mouille Point and Three Anchor Bay.