Menopause: Silly-Savvy Poem

I pause, just for a nanosecond, to consider the flaw in the word menopause. Isn’t it women, they such as I, that suffer from the pause? And what is this pause anyway? Do women just stop, rest awhile, and take the time to consider, as I – am doing – now – the flaw? The…

Displaced: A Salopian Hincher in Suffolk

This house – my cave – has never truly hugged me. So, feeling the Hinch, I pick up my flimsy frying-pan turner, and get to work, scraping away the gunk of those who went before. Will this house now feel like a part of me – or, like gunk, do I still need to scrape…