One Hundred and Fifty-Three.


Izzy circle


tension between arid earth and heavy sky,
taut and hot and making the air expand
until eventually the sky gives in and breaks
pours itself down all over the scorched dirt


Sarah circle


I have invented a new type of Swiss Army Knife.
Gone will be the scissors, the blade, the file.
In their place, a rabbit’s ear. Soft and lucky, to remind us that superstition can be a comfort in the face of cruel realities.
Tucked in there, too, a bell, to sing out in joy, to solemnly toll grief. Its peals will carry great distances, to remind us of the power of truth.
Folded away also, a single warm sock, humorously coloured and carefully knitted to remind us that loss is inevitable, but so too is love.
The corkscrew can stay.



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