Rib I have visited your grave many times expecting to find you tending your plot, maybe with a shovel or a strimmer, turning your handsomely-lined face towards the sun. In Kilmahon cemetery, wild garlic excretes a heavy smell. White bonnets bob at your wooden cross, embarrassed to show their faces, roots grown so deep. Reflected … Continue reading Three poems by Victoria Kennefick
Author: And Other Poems
Two poems by Anthony Wilson
Poem Beginning With a Line by Eve Merriam I am telling my hands to be still. They do not want to be still. My hands are grey, they are not clean, they long to be grey again. There is much they have seen and cannot speak of. I have told them they are beautiful but … Continue reading Two poems by Anthony Wilson
Deathflake by Paul Stephenson
(Deathflake was previously published in Under the Radar magazine). Paul Stephenson was one of the winners of the 2014/15 Poetry Business Book and Pamphlet competition. His first pamphlet will be published by Smith Doorstop in May. He was previously a Jerwood/Arvon mentee in 2013/14, and in 2012 won second prize in the Troubadour International poetry … Continue reading Deathflake by Paul Stephenson
Three poems by Geraldine Clarkson
The Dancers on Graves gather at dawn, 21st June, by the large yew; limber up, leaning on the back ends of monuments and tombs; adjust bandeaux and legwarmers; yodel a little, do scales to loosen the chi. The relevant areas are corralled with ribbon, beginning with John Henry Frayn, father of three, down to … Continue reading Three poems by Geraldine Clarkson
Poem in translation by Conor Kelly
The Point of Flame All his long life he loved to read by candle light. He often passed his hand through flame to show himself he was alive. He was alive. Now, since he died, he lies beside a candle flame but hides his hands. (Originally published at The Honest Ulsterman. Pointe de flamme by … Continue reading Poem in translation by Conor Kelly
Three poems by Marion McCready
Degas’ The Tub for Vicki Feaver It’s the way she lies abandoned, Jezebel, to her liquid bronze bath; hair dripping over the lip of the tub, as if recovering from a marathon or from giving birth. Like the post-natal bath I had in the shock-white hospital – blood streaking the … Continue reading Three poems by Marion McCready
‘A Circular Life’ by David Lukens
A Circular Life “Don't forget, I was brought up an heiress,” she said, massaging the dog's arse with the palm of the hand that would soon be cutting cake. “He's constipated, poor lamb.” She gave another loosening stroke. The dog wheezed through flattened snout and winked at me. “More cake?” “Not me, I'm full,” I … Continue reading ‘A Circular Life’ by David Lukens
‘March’ by Boris Pasternak translated by Sasha Dugdale
March The sun has broken a sudden sweat And the ditch gushes febrile, unstaunched. Spring, like the stocky dairymaid, Holds in its hands the foaming warmth. How wan the snow; it has the green sickness Thin blue twigs are its feeble veins But life comes steaming from the cowshed And the pitchfork plumps … Continue reading ‘March’ by Boris Pasternak translated by Sasha Dugdale
Three poems by Maria Taylor
Tracing Orion You were already fully grown and frolicking with lovers under the stars, around the time when I used my rough book to trace constellations at night. I’d recite names like magic spells: Alnitak, Alnilam, Mintaka. The hunter’s body in space impossible to touch. You in the middle of nowhere fumbling with straps in … Continue reading Three poems by Maria Taylor
‘How I Abandoned My Body To His Keeping’ by Kim Moore
What happened sits in my heart like a stone. You told me I’d be writing about it all my life, when I asked how to stop saying these things to the moon. I told you how writing it makes the dark lift and then settle again like a flock of birds. You said … Continue reading ‘How I Abandoned My Body To His Keeping’ by Kim Moore
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