Esther Morgan
Grace You’ve been living for this for weeks without knowing it: the moment the house empties like a city in August so completely it forgets you exist. Light withdraws slowly is almost gone before you notice. In the stillness, everything becomes itself: the circle of white plates on the kitchen table the serious chairs that attend them even the roses on the papered walls seem to open a little wider. It looks simple: the glass vase holding whatever is offered – cut flowers, or the thought of them – simple, though not easy this waiting without hunger in the near dark for what you may be about to receive. (From ' Grace ', due to be published by Bloodaxe in October 2011.) Imperative This morning don’t go down to the kitchen in bare feet. Put on your gardening gloves, fetch the dustpan and brush from the cellar and sweep these pieces up quickly but carefully, making sure you get every last sliver from the darkest corners of the room (later they may be held against you). Wrap the frag...