Well-dressed celebrity

suddenly
your eyes were bold
headlights reflected
in meagre hand-held torchlight
paparazzi sharp on
ancient coastal B road
salt peppering the air
we expected fear     or instant flight
dense woodland undergrowth
right there        but        you did not stop
no diversion required
continuing at swaggered gait
snout upturned
gentleman about town
dressed in monochrome dinner jacket
shrugging off curiosity
despite celebrity status
snacking on the go 
worm swinging jauntily
from omnivorous jaws
until polite snort signalled
our meeting was concluded
of course
you had better things to be doing
and we just stared
in awe of your passing
delighted to have met
our first badger

The Storm

By Zoe Davis

A scar of moorland stretched for miles, puckering the horizon

mimicking unhealed scuffs&grazes on an unruly child’s knee.
The bruised sky was rain-sore ashen trees turning peat bog around the edges
daylight fading to bleak stygian warning.
We knew it was coming.
Hail first cosmic ice bullets pinpoint accurate filling aggressive wind-grasped hoods
an unexpected assault.
Stunned, we tripped mossy craters as the first drops fell, blitzkrieg fast
grass surrendering blades trampled into sodden earth water level rising above
inappropriate footwear.
Each hair became a spire nape&cheek static stung
we prayed for shelter as raving darkness swept in like a coat
thrown over the sun lone saplings already lost you run, you run,

the wind screamed. We found mercy beneath the earth dank rocky sanctuary
rough-hewn chapel squatting with spiders, two beetles; a silent mouse.
Blessed life safe until
CRACK blunt knife dragging through negative space sky veining fire
raw daylight imprinted on burnt retinas then blessed darkness&God
rearranging the furniture.

it was above us
no time to count the elephants no longer threatening our space but invading
it bodily. here. clutching us mere mortals imprisoned in fissured void
miles from home / a working phone signal electric contact a new fear.
Wild grass hissed steaming summer rain. A cupboard was pushed up against a wall & left
there. Clouds rallied yet were defeated brutal light punching through
bleeding gold & tender blue: a small miracle. The storm rolled on.

We remained until the mouse departed.

Audio recording of ‘Well-dressed celebrity’, written and read by Zoe Davis

Audio recording of ‘The Storm, written and read by Zoe Davis

Zoe Davis

Zoe Davis is an emerging writer and artist from Sheffield, England. A Quality Engineer in Advanced Manufacturing by day, she spends evenings and weekends writing poetry and prose but especially enjoys exploring the interaction between the fantastical and the mundane, with a deeply personal edge to her work. When she is not writing, Zoe can be found drawing, baking, and playing para ice hockey. You can follow her on Twitter @MeanerHarker where she is always happy to have a virtual coffee and a chat.

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Photo credit: Vincent van Zalinge