I receive a call from my mother. It is to tell me a recipe for tortang talong, which she learnt last night in a dream.
A drunk girl came up to me in a club last week and told me, yet again, that I look exactly, no, exACtly–Sarah! Come over here! Doesn’t she look exACtly like our Hannah?
Vacant of leaves
and shell-wrapped gifts,
dad and I can see the sky.
the fox and i
shared one glance
i think about it all the time
and as soon as I touched the freezer’s handle,
the tar wall behind it rippled.
I’m ready for the ritual
where I get crowned a
While I sleep
journey across my bedroom floor.
When my body was made up of straight lines it felt boyish and uninteresting, and when those lines finally bent, they felt uncontrollable.
Every year, while the people who crowd around the Christmas Eve table might change, the chili is always just as delicious, and just as cheap to make.
Their guitars stand somewhere in an empty room on American soil
Dust spots in the sun settle on their strings
Born in the heart of the Black Country, Claudia Knight is predominantly a writer who is exploring the capabilities of her creativity after moving to London and discovering the freedom in taking more risks in life. Having discovered the endless possibilities when creating digital art, her bold yet simple pieces explore her relationship with herself, her body…
The moon will not go down again,
street lights will be on forever and drive
electricity bills into walls with no seatbelts