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Tuesday, 9 August 2022

And So I Write

the word LOVE in my diary, to remind

myself of the underpinnings of everything I do.

I craft the letters with a ruler,

taking great pains to ensure that everything

is smooth, straight, in order. I decorate the word

with a border, and I colour it all in a way

I haven’t done since primary school.

I really want this word to stand out – LOVE.

The unassailable axiom; the uncaused cause;

that than which nothing greater can be conceived.

Until I realise that the letters aren’t quite even.

Some of the lines are thicker than others

and if you squint a bit you can see

a slight smudge on the page. The letter O

seems sort of squished, and although the word

is still, recognisably, LOVE, it looks kind of

misformed, somehow. And so I carry now

this buckled LOVE everywhere I go – 

in my diary, tucked tight in my rucksack – 

and this imperfection is part of everything I do,

a bold, flawed LOVE on the pages of my days.

Tuesday, 2 August 2022


We’re going off on holiday. 

We’re up at half-past four. 

Mum wrestles with the cases

as she heaves them out the door. 

“It’s good to be on time”, says Nan. 

“We mustn’t get there late.”

We cram into the taxi

in a rather tired state. 

All along the motorway

they worry, fuss and fret. 

Nan double checks the boarding passes.

Mum begins to sweat. 

“It’s crucial to be punctual”,

Mum says. Nan nods her head. 

“That’s why it was so early

when we all got out of bed.”

We turn up at the airport

with our nerves all shot and frayed.

A sign is up to greet us

when we get there: