Through the window

I hit the boy in a daydream. He strolled his motorbike straight out onto the highway where my 50km an hour cruise in flipflops and sun dress was abruptly confused into a squall of bent metal, shredded petals and grating skin. It was a bright morning, the scent of papaya and grass smoke on the … More Through the window

The heavy bee

The purple flower fits exactly the heavy bee whose little body, swerving like a drunkard on a string, can yet land in exactly the right way to please her. He opens her slightly, she shakes her head then quits her pouting. A gasp; she quivers. The bee drives on and, fully embraced in the throat … More The heavy bee