Tag

Poetry

Two poems by Olga Dermott-Bond

(Photograph by Paul Connelly)

his phone

is a bath filled with cold water so that each girl captured has to stay there, a ghost with goose-pimpled thighs shivering in the depths of a smeared screen. Still, he waits for new flesh to be drowned, dragged thrashing to him, so he can devour each silver fish as left-overs, sucking tender bones out of the spaces between his teeth, a trembling reflection stolen, a spoilt stream.

The Voyeurism Bill, known colloquially as the Upskirting Bill, came into force in the UK on 12 April 2019.

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In the Eye of the Storm: 5 Poems for Radio by Anja Kanngieser

In the Eye of the Storm: 5 Poems for Radio is written and narrated by Anja Kanngieser, Krystelle Lavaki, Atueta Rabuka, Amelia Rigsby and Peter Sipeli. Sound production by Polly Stanton

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A poem by Chebet Fataba

(Image taken by Momoh Kakulatombo @therealmomoh )

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Horizon’s incomplete picture by Sarah Jane Cervenak

Was on a plane, the other day, and took a picture of clouds outside my window…

(All photographs by Sarah Jane Cervenak )

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Two poems by Shaimaa Abdelkarim

Sometimes we run restless

We live present.

سلاما على من تطرقوا الموت وعادوا أطيافاً

We know it.

                   and in the rush,       we lament

fugitively                    against your
                                                 edgings

*

Today I saw ghost-ling trees

and they spoke so vividly through the fog

on roots
            and groundings

The archons come
                     to                 claim

but the roots are too stubborn that only water can go through

to ground
                                                                        our re/turn

to visions of living    far from us that

                         claim our anger (we rejoice in anger)

and the feel-s of it rush too much

             like lavender or

          cardamom pods deep soaked in water…

*

                         We live present.

سلاما على من تطرقوا الموت وعادوا أطيافاً

We know it.

                   and in the rush,       we lament

fugitively                    against your
                                                   edgings

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A poem by Jen Katshunga

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Two poems by Audrey Lindemann

Glitch Sonnet

for 1 dollar I will hold your hand and for 2 dollars I will be your big fat snowflake. for 3 I will
mean mug your enemies and for 4 dollars I will be a good girl and for 5 I will sun burn. for 6
dollars I will middle part. for 7 dollars I will make you tingle. for 7 I’ll be a bad boy. for 7 I will
self destruct and for 7 dollars I will complete you. for 7
oh apple oh silk
oh pumice stone oh tweeze
oh bath
oh sex kitten
oh green sweater
oh the dribble oh the money
this meal this sheet
oh baby oh sugar baby dribble baby
oh apple yes sweater stone oh 7 dollar
tweeze baby oh

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Two poems by Anthony AW

to the airport in burbank

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A poem by Moira J Saucer

Incomplete/Complete

Collage, by Jane Fleming

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Two poems by Preston Smith

Uncanny Projections

(“sunrise_01-02-07” by deb roby is licensed under CC BY 2.0 )

I haven’t visited grandma much
but we dance in astral meadows.

Mom calls one day, I’m knee-deep
in books, says grandma is seeing

her father, hearing brackish hymns
in her bedroom where my grandpa

has not slept in months. I do not see
her that night, only lilacs glinting

in a burnt orange sunset. What?
she yells and I hear her from years

away. Mom calls one final time,
grandpa cannot handle her screams

for voices he cannot hear, and I sip
black tea and slumber, meet her

again in the meadows where lilacs
now burn and the sky now weeps

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BLOOD/VIOLENCE, LINES AND THE END TIMES EDITION APRIL 2019 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY EMMA SzH

BLOOD/VIOLENCE, LINES AND THE END TIMES EDITION APRIL 2019 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY EMMA SzH

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In A Kidney Dish by AMS-H

In A Kidney Dish

Seventeen months and six days ago,
with practice that could only be attached
to a pair of nitrile gloves,
they pulled apart generations of stratified tissue,
classified the human from the mammal
and presented the results on a stainless steel tray.

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Imagine Gertrude Stein Sees by Mare Leonard

Imagine Gertrude Stein Sees

A Blue Nipple

the ten month old

pushes out, pulls in ~~sucks~~

Does substitution satisfy*

no there there.

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Menstrual Blood by Gavin D’Costa

Menstrual Blood

Jesus bled menstrual blood from

the wound that gave birth.

Out of his side, a gaping vulnerability,

inviting a finger, a mouth,

a community baptised.

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A Handbag, A Window, A Car by Solange Manche

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LINGUABRASIONS by Patricia Hartland

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Burn the Bloodstream by Emma Lee

Burn the Bloodstream

How can an odorless, yellow pill bring harm?

Every time you say no to food, you say yes to thin.

One felt good so she took another,

Eat clean, look lean.

not knowing two were an overdose.

Greasy fries or skinny thighs?

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Glimpse by Judith Skillman

Glimpse

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Watching The World Fly By by Melanie Davies

Watching the World Fly By

The clock chimed seven …ding…ding…ding… and so on, until it let out one final loud ding that woke Forbes with a start. He shuffled slightly and managed to stretch his front and back legs just enough to prevent the cramp from setting in. He meowed happily as he heard the familiar whirring sound. His morning feed came shooting through the food hatch and plopped into his dish in a brown lumpy mush.

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Blood Magic by Natasha C. Calder

Blood Magic

It was her first period for three months. Sitting on the lav with her knickers around her ankles and her knees falling apart, Mihaela saw the new slimness in her bare legs and grimaced. She thought of all the meals she’d missed since the promotion—the rushed breakfasts, the uneaten sandwiches, the insubstantial dinners—and how quickly it had become a matter of finding not the time but the inclination. Now she ate as irregularly and as little as she slept. No wonder her periods had stopped.

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