It’s temporary. Mum’s voice strikes the silence. Just a wee break from reality. Flat air of car. Parked outside gran’s flat. Teetering on edge of city. Trailing next to buttered knife edge of countryside. Time clings to us. I am a pick n mix. Uneven bits. Split ends. Dirty fingernails. Unkept. Mum is clean. Stiff upper lip. Fit bit kinda chick. Patting my leg. Soft moisturised hand. Incubation period. Breath fogs up the windows. Sharp inhale from chest. Bundling me out. Forward we advance. Gut punch of fresh air. Sunlight bright. Exposed. Forward march. Swiping hood up over my face. Shield from view. Prying eyes. Gran’s neighbour’s. Desperate to catch a swatch. Loopy granddaughter. Basket case. Foaming at the mouth. Beastly. Crawling on all fours. Funny girl. Checkpoint. Buzzer beeps. Gran appears. Passed from one mother to another. Baby wrapped in hands. Knowing glance. Sacred passover. Mums speak in tongues. Try to decipher. Ancient language. Disembodied voices. Mum retreats. Back to her car. Reversing beyond the street. Wondering if she’s been brave this time or just admitted defeat.

Corridor swallows. Paralysed. Stood still. Good girl. Girl in formaldehyde. Artex walls. Cockrell embroidery. Gran fusses around jacket. Unleashing a flurry. Wrappers. Receipts. Loose baccy. Dog shit bags. Filters. Papers. Lost keys. Pennies. Buttons. Biscuit crumbs. Blood and bones. Out on floor. Ceremonial cleansing. Step in the process. Awful girl. Manifest in bits and bobs. Gran wraps me up like broken glass. 

Decompose on sofa. Absorb into fabric. Would I lie to you. Come dine with me. Portrait artist of the year on Sky arts. If feeling fancy. Crossword puzzles. Tea breaks. Tupperware of rich teas. Untrustworthy knees. Medically prescribed time. Chair remembers Gran’s shape. Puzzle book. Pencil with rubber. Primed to rectify mistakes. Tinny ring of hearing aid enters room before she does. High frequency screech lingering. Inside head? I flurry of fit and fuss. Wrestle straightjacket of skin. Attempt to  roll out credentials to every passing stranger who walks past the flat window. Attempt to bleach and boil and pluck myself clean. Marooned on the sofa. Floor is lava. Fortress myself inside pillows. Body twitches to prove its worth. Shapeless lump.Taking up space in the universe. Light dances across beige carpet. 

Novelty bird clock. Foetal. Cat like. Cocooned. Caterpillar tight. Gran surveys. Purveyor of practical rationality. Militant mindfulness. Iron-clad fist conditioning. Armed with frying pan and internet ban. We have been here before.  I’m so full of love for her my heart could break and the feeling knocks the air from my chest. Embroider it into every surface of my being. Stitch my fingers together. She calls me an awful girl. Term of endearment. She says no use worrying about things not worth worrying about. Simplicity. She mentions her old neighbours daughter. They found her at the bottom of the garden eating mud. She knows the curse that snakes through our bloodline. A tapeworm. Lies dormant. Waiting in our bellies. Scribbled in the margins of our day. I watch her. Study the slowness. Learn to let the stillness in. Old friend. Body groans for it. Biscuit tins and circular patterns. Long showers. Silence. I watch her crossword. She will dutifully decipher Point of resolution? (5 letters) while the world floods and chokes and burns around her. Pages burn and letters leak. You can’t stop her now she’s on a winning streak. Pixel. I tell her. Body tilted over her shoulder. She cooks us a mud pie for dinner. Tunnoks caramel wafer for dessert. With the wrappers we make swans. And push them out onto the loch.