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
Tag: The Rialto Poetry Magazine
‘Tacit’ by Kate Wakeling
Tacit Prospero: No tongue! All eyes! Be silent. [soft music] (The Tempest, Act IV, Sc. I) In the beginning came the hush: nub of his rule, the anti-ruckus, my quiet kept to forge his crown. This was a daughter tutored mute, speech no sooner to bloom than be swaddled. He saw me stitch the peace … Continue reading ‘Tacit’ by Kate Wakeling
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
Two poems by Mona Arshi
The Daughters My daughters have lost two hundred and thirty-six teeth and counting. They possess so many skills: they can craft sophisticated weaponry such as blow-pipes, lances and slings and know what the sharp end of a peacock’s feather is for. Last month they constructed a canoe and saved the Purdu Mephistopheles from extinction. They … Continue reading Two poems by Mona Arshi
Two poems by Stav Poleg
Birth Again I was dreaming, but it wasn’t just me. There were all the creatures, incognito, the sky and sea unseparated, and the skilfully miscast protagonists, running towards or away from each other. You ask who I was? I wasn’t him, or her, or the one who tricked her into it, using consonants and vowels. … Continue reading Two poems by Stav Poleg
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