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Image by Genessa Panainte


First thing today my brain lay dormant: a 
rock-basking lizard drugged with opiate
humidity. Ideas briefly, like geckoes, only
to slide back into its crevices, dozing until
my somnolent body sweated out the strain
of work. My head was just a heat-baked brick:
I could not write. I waded through late morning;
a deep-sea diver in lead-lined boots, adrift like
seaweed on its lazy current. I snorkelled coffee,
decompressing, until I was afloat, bobbing on
the day’s surface. Fissures in my brain’s reef
expelled a shoal of bright thoughts. I was back
in the swim. 

Kate Meyer-Currey was born in 1969 and moved to Devon in 1973. A varied career in frontline settings has fuelled her interest in gritty urbanism, contrasted with a rural upbringing, whilst her ADHD instils a sense of ‘other’ in her writing. She has over fifty poems in print and e-journals. ‘Gloves’ recently made top 100 in the UK’s ‘PoetryforGood’ competition for healthcare workers. Her first chapbook County Lines (Dancing Girl Press) comes out this year.


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