by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 27, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
When we die, do we go back, small cell, atom slit by light. It takes up space, an ocean, a planet, a god. Too large to understand the scale, although we accept the concept. Constellations, tongues of vibration. Unlearnable logic between...
by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 26, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Sunflowers a friend messaged me: “every time I see sunflowers, I think of you” and somehow, that was all I needed to remember that somewhere in this world I still bloom in someone else’s mind. Fran Hayden is an emerging poet and...
by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 25, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
At Sea Both cast out to sea, I wonder – did your ashes ever meet? It was under the same sun setting, although years and miles apart. My grandmother, loosened slowly into Cardigan Bay under a Hay Moon. My best friend, spread across a bed...
by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 24, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Well after Thomas A Clark when the people are gone and the wooden house has been burned down to recover its nails for a short while afterwards there may flourish a small orchard and a well blinking at the sky Mark Rutter’s poems have appeared in...
by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 22, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Why don’t you eat pork? If you don’t believe in God, my friend says, why don’t you eat pork? I have no answer for her. I have only the blue-tacked mezuzah stuck to the doorway of my bedroom, the dried wax still wedged in stubborn clots ...
by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 21, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Undertow On my phone a newsreel shows a car boot lifting just above the flood. Tail lights like eyes caught in a comic gasp, while its body, like the carriageway, lies under sixty million litres of last night’s rain. Walking through town we...
