Tag Archives: Anne Lawrence Bradshaw

In the beginning…

of the freshly laundered crisp white dawn of the first morning, an unexpected crease appears on his shirt. He watches the fault-line grow and spread upon his skin, how the spidery network threads itself into him, a tapestry tricked out … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

I Live Among Ghosts…

and they breathe unnoticed, clocks ticking in a derelict house. Shadows of the forest outside resemble their cold bones, etherised by long winters among tall blue pines. Their skin is mottled and drawn like a shroud. Hanging in my wardrobe … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment