DAMN FINE COFFEE
Mark Blackburn
@mdhblackburn
Twin Peaks came knocking on our screens
When there were only a few screens
To knock
No cable, no satellite, no downloads
It came for the Bowie Freaks,
The punks, the dudes, the tribes -
People like me.
And it took us to a place
Of colour and possibility
When all we had was Thatcherite grey
And suits from Next the same colour.
It saved us from
Lukewarm milky tea in drab cafes
And promised us
Damn fine coffee
In Some Other Place.
Mark was a shoe-seller in London, but is now a full-time writer based in Somerset, England.
Mark was the runner-up in the 2022 Ruth Rendell Short Story Prize judged by Dame Margaret Drabble.
His travelogue/memoir Final Approach: My Father and Other Turbulence has been published by Claret Press to great reviews. It was shortlisted for the TLC Pen Factor Pitch Prize, named as one of Psychogeographic Review’s Books of the Year 2024 and was a Finalist in the 2024 Eyelands Book Awards.
Mark is the winner of the 2024 South Hams Literary Festival Short Story Prize and the Heathrow 70 Writing Prize, winning a trip to Sydney. He has had numerous other short stories, poems and other pieces published and shortlisted for prizes.
Disassembled
MaryAnne Bernardo
@mar3plus3
I sit in rooms
with psychiatrists
My dark streams into watched spaces
This young doctor
looks down at me
through designer eyewear
He does me the courtesy
of telling me
he'll interrupt me
This is a dance that is all too familiar
As the hour passes
I shrink
He asks what kind of childhood I had
I tell him
I was happy, talkative
An overly friendly, inquisitive child
who loved to sing, dance and make things
I feel like he wants a familiar story
Something he can attach ends to
When I speak next
he asks if I am trying to impress him
Salty sweat begins to surface on the back of my neck
I am cold, hot and agitated
I wonder why
I waited four months for this
Movable fog
When he asks if I've ever planned my own end
He doesn't like my answer
I tell him
Its impulsive
I worry I'll jump
Onto tracks
He tells me
exposure is the key to recovery
I imagine my bloody death
My skin and bones ripped apart
People on the platform screaming in terror
His face when he sees my name in the news
But he won't
Because these things aren't reported
And I've already disassembled