Issue Eight:
Something like the beginning of love

By Olga Dermott-Bond

Something like the beginning of love

might be  painted  into  the warm sky

tonight    twilight still wet         to the

touch.    Driving there   she notices a

crescent moon   warmed honey   as if

God had   restedhisteacup   a little too

 

long       on the polished table of night.

Such beauty.           Yet these stars are

already dead   their light  a  memory –

 

the  hesitation  of dust that burnt inside

them burns inside her.       To love him

is to  leave  the restofherself     behind.


About the Contributor

Olga is originally from Northern Ireland. A former Warwick Poet Laureate, she has had poetry and flash fiction published in a range of magazines including Rattle Magazine, Magma, Paper Swans Press, Reflex Fiction and Dodging the Rain.  In 2017, she was commended in the Winchester Poetry Prize and was recently commended in the British Army’s Writing Armistice Competition.  She is teacher and has two young daughters. @olgadermott


Losslit canon

The Blind Assassin - Margaret Atwood

Atwood writes with such tenderness, beauty and brutality about love, desire and loss. The multiple narratives and time frames provide the hallmarks of a great mystery, but it is so much more than that. There is seemingly little redemption here, as the last act of the ageing and frail protagonist is to tell her story to us. If there is any consolation to loss, it is the act of writing about it. “Stick a shovel into the ground almost anywhere and some horrible thing or other will come to light. Good for trade, we thrive on bones; without them there'd be no stories.”

See all entries in the Losslit canon


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