Book Review: As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann My rating: 5 of 5 stars How do you write about a book like this? Wait. Let me take a breath. Then a step back. Then another. We begin again. When I read Hanya Yanagihara’s, “A Little Life”, I scarcely believed, I would find another book that moved…

Sext – Four

Mere hours separate us now. Let this time of longing be sweet. Five excruciating hours between this moment where I lay in the darkness typing this and the moment you emerge from glass doors at the airport. Time takes on such a different quality when I am with you and when I am not. Time,…

Let me tell you what my love is

My love is paint not yet dry. My love is colouring outside the lines. My love is paintbrush jar juice and 9B pencils. Blackest on black. My love is 30% extra for the same price. My love is the 9-item checkout line. My love is the cart with the wonky wheel that always picks you….

Sext – One

Every pore of me opens, like spring happening to flowers, in the anticipation of your skin meeting mine. I am wet and parched. I am hard and the softest ever. I am all blood, bone, and muscle, and flesh, and flesh. Sink into me. Straddle my hips. Push your sex into my sex the way…

Notes to a friend going to meet my love

There are fireworks going off here. It’s like the world is calling out her name. Listen to me, my friend. Before you go there are some things you must know. You will meet her, and her beauty will confuse you. It will derail you. You will sit across the table from her and she will…

A Journal of Undoing – Two

There are two kinds of waiting. One with a definitive end in sight, no matter the time. One without. The latter is a kind of waiting without waiting. Which means to say, you don’t know if things will ever change and you don’t want to bet on it, but each time you try and close the…

Leaving town

It’s been a while since we met here, hasn’t it? I’m sorry I don’t do this oftener. It feels not dissimilar to gutting myself with a cheese knife. It’s not for lack of things to say, words, or even how I feel. It’s just measly armour. So pathetic. Always prided myself on such courage but I…

A good book is worth the ruin

Once, I could not imagine that a book might hurt me.   It’s like this. Not much different. Reading, like lovemaking, is among our most private of pleasures. An act that asks for you to leave your armour at the door and wear only your vulnerability. Books and their secrets. Books and the secrets they cannot keep. Like…

Everything is for you

To write to you is butchery. I might as well take a carving knife and have a go at my thigh. I may as well make fillets of my tendons. Only, writing is worse. To write, I have to step out of my clothes with immense caution. I need to undress for you with such…