I wrote this a while back for a competition at Freeword. It got long-listed, and I got some great feedback, but I did that defeatist poet thing of hiding it away because it didn’t win and was therefore shite. Finally, I went through the judges’ comments and worked on it, hard. Here you go, it’s […]
Here’s a blackout poem from an article in which Judy Murray comments on the viability of female tennis stars. Off-Court Males build the country women need to get better at controlling their image. The success of men depends on being able to see more than women. Women are going to have to work harder to […]
Girls Talk Then they look at me different, the girls who’ve heard I’ve been loveless fucking a boy out of my league, a 9 to my 6, that we’ve had sex without story, without aligning star signs or postcodes or appetites or dreams or references. Soon everyone I know knows too, and, rather than ask, […]
‘Unsex me here’ I am incubating these words in a greenhouse. I am naked and deadheaded and in charge of this propagation. I plant them so deep, the soil quakes – this is the birth of a volcano, and the collapse of one. You, boy, can watch if you like but you will stay outside. You […]
Untitled I will hold you like this – a glass cradling milk within it. Aware that we are both liquid, both weeping for the thing we once were.
Ish I lied when I said the blood on your boxers was from a shaving cut on my thigh. It was an instinctual reply. The fox in the bush beside us could smell it but she knew to keep still and quiet. One day we will have our glory and we will no longer […]
Birdman You are robin-breasted – the outstretched wing of a full house beats my flush. Victory sits on your cheeks like a fat baby. I shuffle the cards and deal, uninterested in the game or the anecdote of your last date – she had a nose like a macaw, no, a fucking flamingo but that’s […]
I know you now as 90 (draft) I know you first as the woman who looked just like Grandma, second as the lucky-nosed coin. I used to collect fifty pences trace their hexagonal brink – never quite brave enough to hold my breath and make a wish, though. I’m turning 25 this year. I […]
Spine I asked my spine how it keeps me up on days like today when darkness curdles around my shoulders and begins unfurling a cloak of dumbbells and tar, letting gravity coax us to the concrete, atom by atom. Spine says nothing (it never does), re-aligns its stacking, and holds me through.
Touch If a fallen tree protrudes a single branch from a lake like an outstretched hand, but no-one is around to pull him to his feet, will the lightning still see him as the tallest and chop the sky into zig zags to reach down and touch him?