Coconut John I recognise the worn teeth of his rattle-clacker against the Waltzer’s siren. No name in lights or thumping decibels, a row of ugly numbskulls sitting cockeyed on sawdust pedestals. The years have whistled him by, the same shock of silver hair, the puckish smile still spoiling for a dirty joke. Looks like we’ve … Continue reading Two poems by Dan Stathers
Tag: The Rialto
‘Manger’ by Leonardo Boix
Manger After The Adoration of the Magi This ramshackle hut I was born had neither thatch, roof nor ceiling A hovel with a hundred o holes, having no walls nor windows, not even an exit. Cows, horses, flies slept all within, barely room for a time, Father built chimneys and Mother had sweetbread and kidneys … Continue reading ‘Manger’ by Leonardo Boix
Two poems by Will Harris
Eyewitness Travel In Shepherds Bush library, now an annex of Westfield, a man in a corner seat leans over two Dorling Kindersley books —Eyewitness Travel—and with near-complete, near-sighted reverence (the kind you’d give to something rare or precious) turns and scans each glossy page. I’m trying to believe it’s for a trip he’s planning, but … Continue reading Two poems by Will Harris
Two poems by Jennifer Lee Tsai
Breathing after Song Dong Tiananmen Square, New Year’s Eve, sub-zero temperatures; he lies face-down, breathing gently for forty minutes while from a distance, Mao observes a few policemen on night watch and the lamp-posts fitted with video cameras. This is the gate of Heavenly Peace. Soon, a patch of frost thaws, just to freeze over … Continue reading Two poems by Jennifer Lee Tsai
‘The Outing’ by Yomi Sode
Onlookers witnessed your wrath that night how your fist rose to the heavens, striking down as if Ṣango[1] lived within you. Thirty going on thirty-one. I wasn’t sure what to say. I’ve never been here. The papers described him as tall. They said his neck broke before he landed as if his body was a … Continue reading ‘The Outing’ by Yomi Sode
Two poems by Degna Stone
Blackface Live Theatre, Newcastle. 3 December 2016 It’s the sucker punch of an actor walking onstage wearing blackface; the roar from the audience as they piss themselves laughing. The vocabulary has shifted but the old problems remain. I was a fool to think that we’d been moving forward when we were only ever standing still. … Continue reading Two poems by Degna Stone
‘The Tale of Wilbur’s Victorian Sewage Pumps’ by Anita Pati
The Tale of Wilbur’s Victorian Sewage Pumps The two-barrelled Prince Consort engine designed by a colonel named St John, was fantasised fondly in Hitchin. Colonel St John had pondered how sewage, to fuel one onward, like money, should never be squandered. Conceived over parlour-time Horlicks, cream-splashed Imperial promise twirled ostrich eggs, rare hot-house relics. And … Continue reading ‘The Tale of Wilbur’s Victorian Sewage Pumps’ by Anita Pati
Two poems by Fiona Moore
In our Hearts By the old hospital the mini-cab drivers still say, everyone says, though there’s no hospital now except in the mind, only a high dark blue hoarding with Homes and Communities Agency stencilled in white, along with A new heart for East Greenwich. The demolition’s long finished and the vast space is closed … Continue reading Two poems by Fiona Moore
Two poems by Janet Rogerson
Them (for them) i My girl's not mine, hers, insanely heart sharp, heart shaped face, kissy, kind through tunnel of missing teeth, deep dark hugs, wants a job colouring pictures of god, don't play the blink- ing game with her, she laughs like a thousand frogs. ii And blue, clinging you, close very close finds … Continue reading Two poems by Janet Rogerson
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
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