In Love First, dream yourself into a mid-terrace let flowers grow inside your head. Rethink the kitchen, see a dining table tangled with jasmine, petals over tired pine. Where once you were arm-deep in sink grease watch holy roses grow from a plughole as swallowtails escape from a cutlery drawer and fly up to … Continue reading Two poems by Maria Taylor
Tag: Nine Arches Press
Two poems by Matt Merritt
The Mind’s Skyline I wanted to write you a poem containing the phrase ‘the mind’s skyline’. I have only the vaguest idea of how this might work or exactly what it might mean, but I like the way it sounds, so please bear with me. It will start with the image of the new-builds … Continue reading Two poems by Matt Merritt
A poem by Angela France
The Visit Brown is the colour of waiting; a wainscot in a dingy room, straight-backed chairs against the wall, tweed coats on old women whose felt hats nod in approval and tilt towards each other. They lean together to whisper lineage, connections; which daughter, whose son, what cousin is parent to the child who … Continue reading A poem by Angela France
A poem by Maria Taylor
Mr. Hill For Patricia For a while he’s gone back to his first wife, who’s decided to keep him on a mantelpiece with mouth-blown vases on either side. It means she’s had to speak to his mistress. They have more in common than she realised, but wonders if her toenails are still painted red. … Continue reading A poem by Maria Taylor
‘Christopher’ by Roz Goddard
Christopher Oh, Christopher, believe me, I’m with you; it’s hard being ordinary, with a surfeit of feeling that won’t elegantly form itself. Inadequacy of thought, of sensibility is a grave handicap in this writing life we have chosen. Every day the same: stumbling in the alleys looking for a gift out of there, lost again … Continue reading ‘Christopher’ by Roz Goddard
‘After the Wedding’ by Daniel Sluman
After the Wedding Back then, you were so London with your ecstatic white teeth, guest lists blissed from your fingers like weather reports. I have adored your ankles, snaffled the fine hairs that crisp the small of your back, & now, after I’ve licked the soap-traces from the underside of your knees, we find ourselves … Continue reading ‘After the Wedding’ by Daniel Sluman
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