photo by Ruben van Wigngaarden
First Disco Uncertain shades spread over eyes dressed new for tonight, lip-sticked nerves bob in her smile, all alone on the floor, crowded by pushes on fragile confidence, she waits for what comes next. Glances dart her way. Small minnows in shoal circle, connect, flash smiles of recognition, touch, separate, look back and tig – you're it! Summer Snow That summer it snowed daisies. I remember you dancing among them, yellow heads nodded to the childish rhythms you loved back then – hula hooping through white exuberance along pixie pathways of your own design. You saw secrets that summer that you never told and I didn't ask, not till the rains came down. Too late by then, you'd forgotten your daisies and drifted away from such places. Sleight of Mind How wondrous it was, wasn't it? Our childhood, our newly born into a state of being, emphasis on new, on innocence (implied)? Such freedom to move within magic, to breathe the fantastic and battle the terrific, to live to the full. To be, to be, to be without stress, without worry, without monsters undefeated, without fear of loss, without costs. Pain without comfort could not be imagined, not for us, not then, not when we were young. Wasn't it wondrous? Wasn't that how it was? A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Maxine Rose Munro Bio: Maxine Rose Munro is a Shetlander adrift on the outskirts of Glasgow. She writes in both English and her native Shetlandic Scots, and is widely published in the UK and beyond, both in print and online, including in Acumen; Ink, Sweat and Tears; and Southlight. Find her here www.maxinerosemunro.com
Fevers of the Mind 