Wayne Holloway-Smith
speaker
351 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard Jun 2026
last heard 24 Jun
Wayne Holloway-Smith’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
Trend
recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 1 in all, peaking in Jun 2026 with 1.
Appearances
she is wandering slow drawing out each long moment she is somewhere outside herself above a little behind in front now and watching her own body drifting home much later than she supposed that night so beautiful with its ordinary sky
There exists no photo, but there are things she kept each time they met.
A ticket stub from the picture house, a beer mat folded into her pocket, the cigarette he gave her once, a packet of salted crisps and the secret in her stomach.
So she could always be this way.
And she could also keep his handsome mouth, could keep the way he wore his jeans, the boyish toughness and the hand he combed his hair back with.
She'd lock it all up each day and hold it.
And they could keep being, she thought, young together and innocent in the back of his brother's car.
She felt like the world was ended or begun in a new way.
She had made her bed.
Her mum, whose three bones had healed by now, couldn't look at her.
What does it mean for a child or a very young woman to have brought shame back to her home?
How one sister sat at the kitchen table, picking from a half loaf of bread, scraped a crust in a near empty jar of honey or jam.
How one sister sat spiteful at the foot of the carpeted stairs with a smirk on her heart.
How does an incredibly young woman or child carry that shame or weigh it, resolve to take that weight inside herself, keep hidden, it's growing until it kicks out and there's no way to conceal it any longer.
Her mum, whose three bones by now had healed or maybe her dad and his anger couldn't look at her.
She was told she had made her bed and either way it was said she had to lie in it.
she had to lie in it and did first behind the shops when he pushed her with both hands away and in that moment she knew everything about desire the body she had fell upon and again now with pleading for all of this was she came to understand her fault alone her shame growing busy and sticking right out into the daylight the bell of her belly she had to lie in it
And did, as she took a knitting needle to herself and then a hot bath and vodka and her friend's cast iron tub.
And she was sorry that it might work and sorry that it didn't.
So sorry she arrived, the rain rifling down, to stand in his yard with its scrap metal, its tall weeds.
Showing 241–260 of 351 · page 13 of 18
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