Two recent short pieces, channelled from my muse Ino.
The litter of ferrets lay in the crook of their mother’s arm. Or shall we call it a paw? They were happy and secure there, fawn-coloured with a stripe down their sides and across their faces, as if their mother had dragged a paintbrush down all of them, after they had been born.
She was contented with them, whether she had drawn them like a charcoal sketch of animal family love, or had created them in some other way.
How do any of us know where they came from, and who painted their stripe? We can only guess or theorise, and we know that ferrets bite, and fight amongst themselves, and attack other animals. Such rodents are fiercer than we are ourselves, yet they hold their babies like a human mother in an old black and white photograph, in which the fawn is white, the stripe is always black, and the morals are black and white.
Lemon Bubble Bath
Lemons are too sharp for the puffy skin that clings to the front of the bathing girl. The lemon drop shard would shear the whole skin off, a sheep being shorn, while bathing in yellow, growing bubbles that widen, open and split.
Golden foam gathers and rises, tart with the sour surprise of lemon when it touches the taste buds. The bathing girl immerses herself in the flood of ochre-coloured juice, slippery with sliding pips popping out to lean above the water’s surface.
Lemon is rinsing and bleaching the arms and legs to leave them stripped raw and red, now open for the sun to burn further, on top of the lemon sting. Swim quickly to the side, bathing girl; jump out of the ducking tub, scintillating and coarse as if you had been thrown into acid vinegar.
Picture of ino’s sigil by Dan Knudten