Today’s choice

Previous poems

H.J. Thomas

 

 

 

Black Cherry Ice Cream

We ate it leaning against the rail
above the harbour –
black cherry,
melting down the cone
faster than we could catch it.

And you laughed,
mouth red,
sunlight flaring in your lashes.

I watched the boats move below us –
slow beasts with canvas wings –
and thought:
this is joy.

Not fireworks,
not promises,
not certainty.

Just you,
offering me a bite
from your side
of the cone.

And the sweetness –
sharp and floral,
ripe as August before it turns.

 

H.J. Thomas is a poet based in Durham, UK. His work explores grief, queerness, and hope. He is working on his first collection, still here, and a second, Songs of Vancouver Island. Previously unpublished.

Linda McKenna

We set about him with rifle butts and spades,
waiting our turn alongside our enemies,
the same sunburnt flesh, the same blistered
feet. Met where our camps, the same

Abigail Ottley

    She remembers the house of her husband He’s not, as they said he is: loathsome, most monstrous. He has a strange and sinister beauty. His eyes are obsidian, shot through with gold, a ruby burning in each. A noble brow, and magnificent cheekbones. You can...