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April 05, 2013 04:04 PM UTC --
Miss Billings leaned against the doorframe looking at Mr Fredericks pushing a broom
on the forecourt of the petrol station look at the old fuck pushing broom
she said it’s his way . . .
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April 04, 2013 10:26 AM UTC --
After the bath the drying of, the white towel under the arms, over arms and breasts, between thighs, all over until
all dries or near so, and while drying, she thinks of the long afternoon . . .
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April 04, 2013 02:56 AM UTC --
Christina met you on the playing field after lunch in recess the sun was warm
butterflies went by clouds white puffs moved over head I saw you playing cricket
this morning from the classroom . . .
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April 03, 2013 02:21 PM UTC --
Prayers will help, the pastor said. Hands joined, rest on her stomach, the blue dress, neat and clean, her hair set just so. Eyes closed, lips
mouthed prayers. Behind closed eyes memories stirred, . . .
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April 03, 2013 01:31 PM UTC --
Outside the church after the Sunday service after singing in the choir
Judith followed you out of the vestry into the daylight amongst the gravestones
at the back of the church where . . .
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April 02, 2013 10:02 AM UTC --
She sits beside Finbar, he knows she’s there, sitting there staring into air. That silly hat perched on the top
of her head of hair, white, seen better days, he thinks, not says. He puffs . . .
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April 01, 2013 02:23 PM UTC --
On some Sundays you went for high tea with great Nan Seeley and you sat around a big table
with bread and butter and tomatoes and celery in tall glass containers and lettuce and bowls
of . . .
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March 30, 2013 03:48 AM UTC --
It was late one Sunday afternoon when you must have been about 11 or 12
just before tea and Sunday bath and your old man said dress up in your best
long trousers and blazer and shirt and . . .
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March 29, 2013 08:29 AM UTC --
Jane stood in a field of kale waist high gazing toward
the Downs you stood beside her your hands just touching
fingers feeling warmth cows nearby mooing we’ll have to go up there . . .
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March 28, 2013 05:08 PM UTC --
If only he wrote poems for her like Byron did those whom he knew, if only her
man took time to put pen to paper, rather than his fist to her cheek or jaw or pushed
her to the floor to have . . .
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March 27, 2013 03:14 PM UTC --
On the way home from senior school you met Fay on the corner
of the New Kent Road and Meadow Row she was dressed in her school uniform
with a satchel over her shoulder a hand griping . . .
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March 26, 2013 04:25 PM UTC --
Anny Horowitz doesn’t run down the shopping aisles as your grandchildren do, she holds the trolley,
steadying it with her hand, your ghostly friend, your little Jew. None sees her form, . . .
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March 26, 2013 08:28 AM UTC --
Sophie Syncope suffocated
her sixth child, placed the pink pillow
over the small head, held it there, against
the struggling for breath, until still, until dead.
Sophie waited, listened, . . .
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March 25, 2013 04:02 PM UTC --
She had dried His feet with her hair. She’d not forgotten that. Not long after she’d seen the same
feet nailed and bloodied to the wooden down beam. Her tears had helped wash them, . . .
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March 24, 2013 04:57 AM UTC --
She goes to places where he had been, touches things that he had touched, what
some call laying ghosts, she calls reliving the past, trying to bring him back again. That Italian
restaurant . . .
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March 23, 2013 05:44 AM UTC --
You pushed Anne in her wheelchair along the path by the beach
having left the nursing home behind having gone through the back gate unseen
what will they say when they see we’re . . .
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March 22, 2013 02:35 PM UTC --
Catalina waits for Arturo to come, she has been prepared, told how to lay and what to expect (to a degree) and to wait and be ready.
Her attendants have left after much fussing and tidying and . . .
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March 21, 2013 06:11 PM UTC --
Janice walked back with you from Harper Road where you’d been shopping for your mother
for sugar in a blue paper bag and flour and eggs and other items
on the list and Janice with . . .
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March 21, 2013 12:46 PM UTC --
Even as a child Bramshaw was obsessed With brassieres; He liked the shape And bright colours; He liked to imagine Them filled with firm flesh, Warm and motherly.
When he got older He’d . . .
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March 20, 2013 03:54 PM UTC --
She has the letter safe, tucked out of sight, pushed between breasts beneath her dress.
She has read it so often she knows it by heart, each word, each phrase he used,
the images his words . . .
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