from a view of the sky tunnel
two gunshots ring out on the street
fell and scatter the passers-by
when you stand by the bridge
or simply walk along
the street lamp contemplates ripened wheat
ripe heads bent low
he said he liked the word fertile
and that blood must atone for blood
Xia Fang’s ‘Reflection on the Westminster Bridge Attack March 2017’ Read More »
from Instant History
All the children ran
to see the Empress of Iran
blowing out the candles
on the carved ice swan.
Soldiers the colour of cracked mud,
taller than poplars
the palace wall
imprisons the Holy Forest.
Richard Tipping’s ‘Tehran Children’s Film Festival, 1977’ Read More »
from Water Music
In the end, of course, he got married
to himself. A civil ceremony, nothing too glib, a friend
or two, a reporter from The Mirror, the odd flame
from the past, a waiter with icy water:
his watery parents, a little perplexed, looking around,
confused because no engagement had been announced.
The celebrant was vague, her words left an eerie
echo, she quickly left. Nobody spoke. At last, he escorted
himself into the Bridal Suite: nervous, a little beery,
he sat there blushing on the edge of a single bed.
Alex Skovron’s ‘Narcissus’ Read More »
from Fixing the Broken Nightingale
The question is not how to die but how to live
How to link the miracle in each moment to the next
How to keep the timelessness through so much time
Never enough of course but still a great deal to manage
Richard James Allen’s ‘Flickering Enlightenment’ Read More »
each block of wood
a head to chop
each plant
earth pushing up
the whistling wind
an open cloak
river rock crabs
drowned sailors’ hands
every shadow
a sundial arm
Andrew Burke’s ‘Autobiography’ Read More »
from A Chance of Seasons
there are stairs to take
and steps to consider, after all
the slender things we are
stars can wait a little longer
distance must be reached
love is met on the landing
(a demon black cat flashes
past, between our future legs)
we recognize each other
one going up the other down
we hardly have time to speak
platitudes of stairs and star
a bad day ahead of us or behind
a meeting later, always later
Rob Shackne’s ‘Stella Fugio’ Read More »
from chalk borders
a lap for children
cover for bruised knees
pocket for safety pins
flower cuttings
catcher of stains and tears
patchwork gala of pain
where the peels curled
you fronted up for work
fronted up for work
the tie tightened
hand behind
thread
finger knot
here where I hid my face
Sarah St Vincent Welch’s ‘apron’ Read More »
from The Party of Life
And those wet white clouds
are like an endless soft bed
where I could lose myself with you
and we could plough
like two fish
to the horizon
Beth Spencer’s ‘Flying over the Great Australian Bight’ Read More »
from Seem
for six months
after he died
she made a fire
the flameÂ
lit her eyesÂ
like he had
the warmth
hugged her bones
like he had
the smoke
made her laugh
like he had
for six months
after he died
she made a fire
‘Sad’ by Alan Jefferies Read More »
My parents know me better than I know myself. Someone who learned the hard way. I learned much later in life. Yaya wrung the neck of the hen then chopped off its head. Did a headless dash. Our bloodied driveway. Never met anyone so fascinated with rust, who took me to warehouses, cemeteries and shipping yards. We hurled stones in La RIve Gauche. All that hard work was framed and hidden underneath the bed, where it could no longer be seen. Discontinued my studies. Removed my designation. Left my scribble in his postbox where it remained unread. Walis tingting. He wouldn’t sit in the cinema after the movie had begun. I re-watched Tan Lines isolated in spirit. He never forgot my face but couldn’t remember my name.Â
from Harold Legaspi’s Chapter Ten in Letters in Language Read More »
