The Maggot on Maple Street

"When my husband asks me what’s for dinner, / I show him the breasts cut from the bone."

Breastplate

"Language is a languid doll / poaching from a flaxen nest."

Sestina for a Nesting Doll

The wood panels flap like meat falling from the bone. Momma shivers in the corner, rocking back and forth, reciting bible verses.

Moon Maggot

I fall from the oyster tower in my pearl-rimmed frock. To mock the troglodytes with their Marlboro lights and drops of mead. 

We Left the Garden

"We're writers, darling. We turn men into frogs."

The Moonchild

Lorrie fought me on the divorce until I ate her pet spider. I cooked it in chilli oil and washed it down with vodka. She came home from the lido and found the plate with the words, “Daddy ate me,” written in balsamic reduction.

Courtenay Schembri Gray

Books

Selected work