Heather Chapman
But then we stepped through the doors
and July lay down so gently. Inside I
saw birds shortchanged
into silhouette through red capes;
swerves of felt beckoning white rabbits
through invisible windows. You would have loved
it, but you wouldn’t have believed
it. All the pains were fake – the hacksaw
grinding awfully back and forth, the knives.
Now I feel queasy with magic, a bit invulnerable –
most of all I miss you. At the end
everyone left with their coats and husbands
but I stayed until the lights went low again
and saw the magician pull one dove
into two, grinning like a kid
even as his hands clapped with wings,
as if he hadn’t believed he could really do it.
Heather Chapman is a Durham University student. They’re a Foyle Young Poet, were shortlisted for the 2025 Oxford Poetry Prize, and won the 2025 Hive Young Writers Competition. Their work is published in an anthology by Sidekick Books, and they have a micro-chapbook forthcoming with The Braag.
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