Tag Archives: Lisa Reily

temporary abode

Posted on June 20, 2020 by

wood-turned bannisters, stained ebony, each step, a creak and groan; ash on one, crumbs and cockroach on another, this place has been left to ruin. a once-lively bakery stacked with dusty chairs, a worn sign advertises vegetable roti. the stairs … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 2 Comments

In Transit

Posted on August 12, 2018 by

The ground is wet. There is nowhere to sit. An emaciated dog crosses the tracks. I lean my bags on top of one another and rest my hand on them, hoping they won’t topple. Everyone is quiet. A few draw … Continue reading →

Posted in Creative Non-fiction | Tagged | 1 Comment