by Kate Birch | Nov 7, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks
Untitled And I think that you think you understand a lot of things Things you just don’t. Getting caught between the rhythm and home. But you see I’m only telling you this because I used to think I understood a lot and I just didn’t I was caught between...
by Kate Birch | Nov 7, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks
The Knight He smells Lynx-irresistible: sweat and leather, dirt, blood, incense, and other people’s sweat but when I’m angry he smells of horse shit. He sounds of prayers, sword strokes, chainmail swagger and idle pious boasts. He cares about his saddle more...
by Kate Birch | Nov 7, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks
Secretary of God Our Lord has often revealed his secrets to the world through women. –Christine de Pisan These are not my words. I drank God straight from the well. I move through hours. Predictions drip and pool. When they burn the...
by Kate Birch | Nov 7, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks
Midnight Illness Home is only ever found in glimpses, the night-fragrance of a lover’s shoulder, the warm throb of the pulse beneath the skin of the throat, the green scent of trees captured in the pages of the right kind of book. You feel ‘home’ in a...
by Kate Birch | Nov 7, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks
Heat In these heat days when the sun displays a fiery godhead and ordains the liquefaction of Tarmac and the deadest of nights bring a crackle of crickets and all the bedrooms burn in airless struggle to turn the pillow then and face its...
