‘Please Do Not Touch the Walrus or Sit on the Iceberg’ by Caleb Parkin

  Please Do Not Touch the Walrus or Sit on the Iceberg           Horniman Museum, Summer 2019 So, I clamber up, on top of the fibreglass plinth, rise from the chevrons of the parquet floor as though it melted into thick-cold waves and I emerge, triumphant and substantial, hear my epic belly boom on the fake ice, hands slapping flatly on … Continue reading ‘Please Do Not Touch the Walrus or Sit on the Iceberg’ by Caleb Parkin

from ‘One Hundred Lockdown Sonnets’ by Jacqueline Saphra

  XLI 2nd May ‘Death Map. Interactive coronavirus map lets you find out number of deaths in your postcode.’ The Sun And suddenly it’s fear. He wakes me up at odd hours, pulls me out of bed, he works by stealth, he spikes my morning cup with dark. I drink him like a drug, I dread his silences. Fear speaks in chokes. He knows no … Continue reading from ‘One Hundred Lockdown Sonnets’ by Jacqueline Saphra

‘Villanelle to all my Wasted Flesh’ by Jane Burn

    This bed a purse of flame and I, a hot coin thrown to its tawny lickings lie, het suckle-pig, skin lachrymose with rendered tears, beast burned to its bone – I have squirmed my own grease on the sheet’s thirsty pone. I paid for my dreams, blazed a cruel ascension in this bed – a purse of flame and I, a hot coin … Continue reading ‘Villanelle to all my Wasted Flesh’ by Jane Burn

Three poems by Tom Sastry

    Normalisation It’s like the old days; a fortnight’s needs in tins under the stairs. The crisis, like the weather is changeable. Some days the shops are full, the power constant. Some days the streets are calm. The news is still earnest nothings, outrage, sport and gossip. They haven’t yet asked for your passwords. The leaves turn. You still have a job. The wild … Continue reading Three poems by Tom Sastry

Three poems by Suzannah Evans

  Three poems from Near Future     Summer with Robobees Those long evenings they giddied in the warm wealth of the oilseed rapefields humidity sensors estimating approaching storms * We picnicked on the lawn in July – shuttlecocks pinged distantly our scones and jam unbothered by the robobees their algorithms danced them between marigolds * Sometimes they get indoors through open windows go from … Continue reading Three poems by Suzannah Evans

Two poems by Robert Peake

    Letter to the Last Megafauna My friends, you wouldn’t like it here, moss squelching underfoot, lean drizzle tickling your rivulets, bare trees. We’d give you names like Babar, Dumbo, Topsy, then shackle your legs for safety (ours), parade you in a car for entertainment (ours). Everywhere we go (archaeology shows) the giants disappear – save you, the last of the mammoths, eyelid creased … Continue reading Two poems by Robert Peake