The secret of the longlasted love

The secret of the longlasted love is known
in its fiery potential
by the young and the breathless and sweet

I could warn you of its future
but perhaps
you would not believe me

The secret of the longlasted love is known
in the mid age
in the touch and go and stay

I could write you a letter or some lines
but perhaps
you would not want to read me

The secret of the longlasted love is known
only to the old
when the memories and razored caresses have scarred

I could tell you the history of it
but perhaps
you would remember
how everything was different

As she walked slowly out of the doctor’s room

As she walked slowly out of the doctor’s room, a shadow shaded across her face. It matched the patch in her chest.

She did not want to tell them the news, share the picture buried deep in her bag. Deep in her heart she knew that she should but she was afraid that their hearts would break. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would.

For today she would keep her silence, and smile, and nod, and cough quietly into a handkerchief. For today, today, they did not need to know.

But they knew. Of course they knew. They knew it sharply deep inside of them, it cut them sharp and deep inside of them, they felt the broken glass in her breathing in their hearts.

But for today she would not tell them.


Green was the colour of the angels as they swept down, swords trailing sparks which tumbled like falling stars and settled in our upturned eyes. I do not know why they left the children alive; we did not deserve it.

Many years later, when the red sky had returned to morning, my grandmother, just before dying, whispered to me the secret of the family.

With my sister I went to the forge on the bank of the shining river and in the ashes found my sword. I shook off my cloak and unfurled my green wings. The sky closed forever.

First published on 01March 2015