Martha Lane

I set off in the same direction I do every day, my loafers loafing as much as always. The light graze of them on the concrete as they flap slightly off my foot with each step is a shush and a hush carrying me along. The streets are quiet, no one tends to be awake […]

Danny Taylor Oct 17th 2009 – Jan 2nd 2020. He loved this beach, our boy.   Matthew was granite. ******Stiff. ******Cold. ******And silent. ******Two halves of a bronze plaque in two separate hands. A birthday in his left. A deathday, heavier, in his right. Around his feet, a bench in splinters. ******Danny’s bench. ******Destroyed. ******Matthew’s

When a goose is injured or sick and needs to leave the skein; the V, like outstretched arms reaching across the sky, another two accompany it. It’s evolution, something hardwired. A way to ensure no goose is ever left alone. If two, not three, return, the flock honk in mourning. As children, hand in hand,

Before the Grievers’ Horror Film Club, the sound of the house settling was enough to scare me. I’d lose whole nights to fear of home invasions, alien landings, burst pipes, fires and axe murderers. All because of a creak.   Before the Grievers’ Horror Film Club, I cried during Snakes on a Plane. It was

2He You tell him his dad lives in a balloon now. Makes sense to him, all three of you went into that hospital but only you, he and the balloon came out. Foil stretched taut, shining, bouncing happily along. You tell him Dad is dancing, excited to be coming home. Balloon follows boy everywhere, gnarled

Multiplication. Counting in tens. Ten, 20, 30 times the boys have been told to sit nicely. ‘Come on, like the girls do.’   A nine-sided shape is a nonagon. None of them have shoes with any laces, high ankles, or grips. Girls learn to run away in unsuitable footwear.   Eight minus eight makes nothing.

I broke into a churchyard today. I broke into a churchyard because I wasn’t expecting it to be locked. Gated and locked, rusted iron and painted gilding. I broke into a churchyard today and stung myself on nettles. A thick tangled bush right where I landed (because I had to climb over the locked iron

We ate pancakes for breakfast, cracked shell in the mix. Crunchy shards, grit between our teeth. We laughed about it. Not loud, but enough to start the day without thunder. I’d walked home the night before, spotted a vinyl in a charity shop window. Presented you with it over syrup-streaked plates, just because. You left

Three students have accused you of taking it. Hundreds of pounds probably. They say they saw you. Say it wasn’t a surprise. Why wouldn’t someone like you steal that amount of money? Maybe you did. Maybe you were hypnotised by it, winking and flirting with you. Maybe you took it without realising. But you know

A sharp-tailed grouse tap-dances on the snow, feet working like a drill. Alaskan, purple yellow mask on. He has a task to do. It’s not enough to leer at females from the side lines. The field, an arena. If he wants to mate, he has to play. With steely eyes, hens measure his wingspan. Judging.