i’m sorry i couldn’t go to your game today
i was on the verge of capturing
a universe in a grain of sand

and i’m sorry i can’t take you fishing son
my hands are cupping an invisible rose
and our blood is mingled on its thorns

tomorrow though our sails will fill
we will skim across blue oceans
and the forgiveness will be endless

but for now son i have work to do
i must contain this throbbing in my cupped palms
and scan each grain as it falls for the next creation

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Selected byRaymond Huffman
Image credit:NEOM
Cameron McClure

Cameron McClure doesn’t exist. He is the pen-name for a  permanently retired civil servant who lives in Northern Ireland and likes nothing better than competitive banter over a pint or two. He believes it will all come right on the night because he’s happier that way and no-one has yet proved him wrong though a lot of well-meaning people try to for some reason.