Like Sylvia’s moon, she was turning wild and bald, she looked for light beyond silhouetted trees but the trees of the mind were blacker, and they called. Caught in a tunnel of fear she slowly crawled into the darkest corners of disease - like Sylvia’s moon she was turning wild and bald. [...]

I could not say I felt like a walking miracle as we travelled south on the first day of spring. Snow on the Burren fleshed out skeletal stones, stopped gaps in the walls so the air could not pass and the valley sank deeper into smothered soundlessness. [...]

Despite her stature she always saw herself as an Amazon but baulked at the price of amputation just to draw back the bowstring faster. [...]

The poisoned chalice is hooked up by the gloved hands of administering angels. Even clad in latex their touch transcends the banalities that spew from daytime radio; [...]

Wing-clipped. This rite of passage has cut a path from shoulder blade to rib-cage, moved muscle, removed that part of me lately defined undesirable, undesired. The scars will fade. Inside, living tissue twists and stretches, finds ways to accommodate a new anatomy [...]

Wing-clipped. This rite of passage has cut a path from shoulder blade to rib-cage, moved muscle, removed that part of me lately defined undesirable, undesired. The scars will fade. Inside, living tissue twists and stretches, finds ways to accommodate a new anatomy [...]

[...] who you were before you first walked through these doors who you became and who you ceased to be in that year of onerous citizenship.