Two poems by Ken Evans

In Zero Gravity If ever you are sucked out into space by an ill-judged partnership, a scheming co-worker, the belligerent family member, you’ll know what love spurned feels like: your eyes bulge but cannot shed tears, out beyond the troposphere. The moisture on your tongue boils, blood does not flow. You lose what’s down or up, the cognisance of arms and legs, vacuum-sealed in the … Continue reading Two poems by Ken Evans