Morning Song An open-windowed church-belled morning chimes of loss and mine; water pipes sing, and I bring back to bed a blue enamel pot of hot coffee, as silk as the slide of skin on sheets, and rough hot bread warmed in an oven kept in overnight and bite into a grape and lazy eyed … Continue reading Two poems by Deborah Alma
Tag: Nine Arches Press
Two poems by Khairani Barokka
medusozoa, neuropathic pain in kalimantan, a lake so inland in exile that jellyfish there have no sense of sting; divers swim at ease, brushing legs against ghosts. evolving out of our sense of poisoning tentacles is possibility; breathe this. the world is dying, yet holds both my enduring corpus and animals whose limbs have wept … Continue reading Two poems by Khairani Barokka
‘The One in Which…’ by Marvin Thompson
The One in Which… 2. The one in which I contemplate The Handmaid’s Tale TV series whilst exiting the cinema’s Art Deco doors In pick-n-mix dispensers, fudge shines like the 30-year-old scar on my knee. To reach an anthology with Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and Anansi, I tiptoed on a wooden box and wobbled. My slip was bloody. … Continue reading ‘The One in Which…’ by Marvin Thompson
Two poems by Ben Bransfield
Dorothy Gale The weather man loves clouds and has wanted to be cirrus since he could coil the garden hose without a hand from his mother. Worried by his hours at their barometer, she’d cook her son a storm from tins, give him the lion’s share to munch for brain and heart. Faggots and mash. … Continue reading Two poems by Ben Bransfield
Two poems by Cynthia Miller
The last hour on the flight deck Shirt too tight, a splotch of mustard (Hokkein noodles? egg salad?) from lunch eaten somewhere over the Arctic, steady heartbeat of lights blinking circadian rhythms. Already his body is waking up when it shouldn’t be, sun pulling at him from the other side of the world. Tray tables … Continue reading Two poems by Cynthia Miller
Two poems by Jacqueline Saphra
All My Mad Mothers My mother gathered every yellow object she could find: daffodils and gorgeous shawls, little pots of bile and piles of lemons. Once we caught her with a pair of fishnet stockings on a stick, trying to catch the sun. My mother never travelled anywhere without her flippers, goggles and a snorkel. … Continue reading Two poems by Jacqueline Saphra
‘Papers’ by Roy McFarlane
Papers The day I was called into my mother’s bedroom the smell of cornmeal porridge still coloured the air, windowsills full of plants bloomed and dresses half-done hung from wardrobe doors and her Singer sewing machine came to rest like a mail train arriving at its final destination, foot off the pedal, radio turned down, … Continue reading ‘Papers’ by Roy McFarlane
‘Rose Petal Jelly’ by Angela Readman
Rose Petal Jelly The apples drip slow as September dabbing sun to the rain, juice slips over the glazed lip of a jug. Outside, a resilience of roses hold in the wind. We feel petals open, jagged caruncles in the corners of our eyes. One nod and I shin a fence, grab a second flush … Continue reading ‘Rose Petal Jelly’ by Angela Readman
‘And What We Know About Time’ by Tania Hershman
When it failed to alarm, my father took the clock apart. Laid it all out on the kitchen table. While the dog dreamed and snored, we watched him clean every piece, then, with breaths held, attempt reassembly. It worked perfectly for the next ten years, which was odd, given the sixteen horological components my … Continue reading ‘And What We Know About Time’ by Tania Hershman
‘Imp’ by Gregory Leadbetter
Imp On the bad days, I shooed her mews away out of nothing but an absence of joy. I never installed a back-door flap for her, so she would patter all night to get in at the window while I lay wide-eyed and sleepless, pretending not to hear. I know it was a blessing when … Continue reading ‘Imp’ by Gregory Leadbetter
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