Lucienne Kim Flavell

Lucienne Kim Flavell has been published in Poetic Republic: Poems To Talk About, Mslexia and Writing Magazine. She won a Highly Commended Award in The Poetry Box International Competition. She won the Commended Award in the Poetry Pulse Annual Competition twice and was shortlisted for the Bridport Prize and The Aesthetica Creative Writing Competition. http://luciennekimflavell.blogspot.co.uk

Welcome Traveller

I can’t sleep in hotels.   The sound of closing doors and talk of people leaving, shakes the air inside my room.   Rain furrows the glass. I look through the window to see families and their luggage spooling back in their cars.   I shut my curtains against the gloaming and lay alone. I …

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Epitaph

I miss the smell of smoke coming in the open window. You would sit on the step, in a circle of light and watch the sunset. Exhaling; your lips were an ‘O’, your breath; a wreath above your head. Your pack of Marlboro gathers dust on the shelf and your smoker’s tray is full of …

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Matches

Silence stretches between us, his hands and eyes locked under the table texting his mates.   The waiter lights a candle, pushes it between us. The wax melts then congeals like blood.   He snaps his mobile shut. Looking at my chest he says, ‘I’ve got to go, it’s late.’ I watch his coat march …

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Afterword

They had to knock out a wall before they could winch me onto the back of a lorry. My neighbours came to watch; I hadn’t left the house in years. They fastened me inside an industrial freezer. Then began the chore of constructing my coffin; a glamorised shed. Men hollowed a corner of a field, …

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Borders

I found myself snowed in with you.   I slept in your bed, in week old sheets.   In the morning, I showered with your boyfriend’s soap.   You opened the bathroom door;   your breath caught in your throat. Your lips parted at the starkness of my skin.   Later, we trudged through snow …

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Howl

I want you to feel the insufferable loss of me. I want you to feel as though you’re unable to function without me. I want your body to quake and quiver with the fantasy of me. I want you to sweat and howl; to run in wind and hail, through bracken, branches and stinging nettles …

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