In May, I was invited to speak at the P.A's clinical ethics forum for National Palliative Care week. This year's theme was 'Living Well with Chronic Illness', and before the forum, I met with three lovely ladies to mull over what I might like to discuss in my talk (sex? It was a unanimous YES). … Continue reading Speaking my truth (and a whole lot of fact)
I do believe that I forgot to let you know that my poem 'Chemistry' was chosen as November's Poem of the Month for the Writer's Edit website. You can read it here. I hope you love reading the poem as much as I loved writing it.
Pinch and a punch and white rabbits to you on this, the first day of November. I'm stoked to share my poem 'Chemistry' with you which has was chosen for Cordite Poetry Review's 'Toil' issue. It's the second poem of mine that Cordite have ever so kindly published and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as … Continue reading Poem in Cordite Poetry Review
It is as though I have two heartbeats. This is how you make me feel. You give me fucking tachycardia, and then in a breath, my heart softens. I want you to lay with me; I want you to read to me. I want to read to you. Soak up Johnny Cash’s entire catalogue with … Continue reading lust: a follow up meditation
I'm a full-time healthcare provider. To myself. People assume that you're cured after transplant, and that you go on your merry way with your phenomenal donor lungs and you live forever and ever with just the odd complication, sail through life, find a partner, have a lovely courtship, get engaged, get married in between a … Continue reading Plan F
There are far more certainties in the world than death and taxes. There is bad coffee, love, storms in the summer, things you cannot have, and then there's choosing the wrong people for ourselves. In 2008 - not long after I had fought so furiously for my life and survived an eight-hour surgery where I … Continue reading Trapped, or The first and last time I’ll ever write about this
I've always dreamed wildly; the dreams being intensely vivid ever since I can remember. I've even dreamed about people who have 'visited' me. When I was six years old, my friend Rachel floated through my window and sat on my bed. I knew she had been very sick, and possibly knew she was dying. Rachel … Continue reading 9 1/2 weeks, Princess Diana and trampoline competitions
There is no indecision. Just the untangling of hair you manage to do so elegantly just as your door rises akimbo to the air. The clang of chain takes a crack at chipping away your softness, but nothing can touch you. You graft to my pupil; that absence of fear swimming in your eyes; sailing … Continue reading Providore