I used to travel through the labyrinth of the Kings Cross Underground twice a day before I left London in 1987. This was written after I returned, some months after the awful fire in which so many died. I am publishing this exactly 25 years after that tragedy. No evidence of that night of death.…
Tag: death
Mother’s Day
So we were processed through grey Lancastrian streets, the banality of life continuing without any respect for our appalling secret. Ahead she lay, still, her gaunt body empty of fight, her skin like marble, her hair soft and brown. We crawled between desolate graves of lonely people, neglected, belonging to no-one, the snow still lying.…
Unwrapping The World 