Storm

From bronzed frame,

I looked at the moon

Amidst the storm,

Anchored and

Grey laced sewn,

Three faced sky

With maiden, mother

And crone

Photo blazed

Figures of Ancient Rome

Fully phased

To follow another

Behind the clouds,

Through week’s lit up

Window

Cranking their shadows

Wound

Into the night,

The hiss,

The rise, the calling

Cries of trees

Rustling,

‘Goddess, goddess, goddess’,

Circling

Limbs embedded

Upon waning

Lunar shrine

To fall,

Fall apart unaddressed

Locked Lips Tell No Lies – Extract 11

“You have to get up, Sappho,” she repeated. “I can’t let you lay here any longer. There’s a life out there which is passing you by, and all I’m doing is helping you shut it out.”

She seemed frustrated, annoyed even, as she dragged the bedding off the mattress and grabbed a hold of my shoulders and stared me in the face. I took a deep breath in, stared back at her with a hardened expression, and she let go and threw some clothes at me.

“Get dressed,” she ordered, and stormed out of the room.

My body felt foreign, the routine of dressing myself almost forgotten and clumsy. With shaking hands, I buttoned up my shirt and forced my legs into my jeans. I slipped my feet into thick socks, and with padded steps, made my way uneasily down the stairs, clutching tightly on to the polished wooden bannister. Theo was in the kitchen, resolute and practically neck deep in the saucepan she was stirring on the hob. Either she didn’t notice me standing in the doorway, or she didn’t want to; and so I went to her coat in the hall and rifled through the pockets. All there was in there was shopping lists, a button, her purse, a packet of cigarettes and an elastic band. I couldn’t find the key, but it was worth a try; and upon a moment’s reflection, I grabbed the cigarettes and went outside.

Locked Lips Tell No Lies – Extract 10

And so to my confusion, I found myself in the grounds in the dead hours of night, my dressing gown heavy. I’d dreamt of Artemis, and something whirred and clicked into place inside my head. She was talking to me, relaying that the reason I hadn’t seen in her in the grounds in ages was because she was at the bottom of the lake. I woke up and found myself on its banks. I picked up rocks, tucked my pyjama bottoms in around the ankles, and proceeded to fill them with masses of stone. I could barely move my legs, and knowing I couldn’t fit any more rocks in there, I slipped the last two into my dressing gown pocket.

I waded in, noticing how cold it was. When I was a metre or so away from the shore, the bed of the lake drew itself from my feet in a pleasant drop; I could no longer stand up and was sinking. I smiled before the water closed in above my head, then I opened my mouth. She had to be in here with me somewhere, and I was going to call her name. I was full up to the skull as I let go of the last of the oxygen I had in my lungs, and still I repeated my efforts to call her, bubbles not appearing when I moved my mouth. Bright blue and white lights fired in my eyes, and I felt a hand take hold of mine. Momentarily, I felt peace; some kind of satisfaction a welcome reprieve from the unrest I had been feeling. Then the lights stopped, and I lost consciousness as I was being pulled up and away to join Artemis in our own new world.

 

 

Locked Lips Tell No Lies – Extract 9

Afterwards, we curled up in my dark red leather armchair by the window, and Artemis laid her head on my naked chest, her short blonde hair feathering out on my shoulder. We slept for a few hours, lost in an aptitude which is so rare for others to find in this world. We weren’t amongst the others; from the start, we had had unique origins which weren’t forgotten or overlooked. We could afford to indulge in sleep and not worry about what may happen next; though in hindsight, we should have stayed awake and cherished the last few hours we had been given, or better yet, I would have convinced Artemis not to go. I would have been selfish for both our sakes; I wouldn’t be writing this now with a well of regret if I had forbade her from boarding the ferry. Still, we were ignorant in what was to be, and didn’t give a second thought about drifting away. We were to learn that in less than forty-eight hours that our fortune was soon to be expended and lost. I was to get one of my last postcards from Artemis not too long after, and be left to mend a torn dress which wouldn’t ever be worn again, each pointless stitch a last labour of love.