Tag Archives: Maeve McKenna

On A Ladder, Everything Is Low

Empty womb a penis—shedding. Three kittens flat-furred under tyres, so we painted cloud-ceilings of grief on ladders. November broke us so often we began mourning dead moths. You haven’t been in our garden since Christmas stopped suggesting new puppies. Maeve … Continue reading

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Holy Pleasure

In unison, I watch us leave as we enter the communion, your toe-tongue mastery of crumpling a hot, ironed sheet, my handy work undone, and I, grateful for it. This time, you plump the pillow exactly at the right angle. … Continue reading

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