published The Rialto;
collection, Stealing The Eiffel Tower, 1997,
Press ISBN 1-873468-50-4
I know her again in
the curve of her neck,
conditioner through knotted hair
she kneels by the bath, silent for a moment
from sulks about empty freezers
slamming at dawn, black lipstick.
infection in the fourth hole of her ear-lobe
dealing with herself. I massage her scalp
remains one thing I can do.
of almond, swell of a back that’s more
her father’s. There is blood on the pack
the chops. She arranges them on the table
the rusty cleaver I bought in Beijing
year before she was born. She’s decided to do
pieces of work about meat and knives,
traces of blood soaked into the absorbent pad
must be designed deliberately.
mother asked the butcher to separate bills
weekly deliveries; dried out crimson puddled
on the metal spike in the bedroom cupboard.
never mentions her cousin who died with a snap
his spine. The axe slices into slabs of pink flesh.
been buying meat all week. Who’d love a butcher,
fingers scrubbed, apron tight over a smooth belly.
need white she says, for the fat. She switches to oils,
me to look in Sainsbury’s for a really red fillet.
on the pack, stains on the back of a skirt,
of her neck as she leans over the paper.
"Don't Mention Her",
Blue Door Press
Man Who Sold Mirrors",
"Stealing the Eiffel
"Born in the NHS" (with Wendy French)",
(with Ales Malhácek),