by Sofía Masondo | Aug 30, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Small hours chat (after The Poet or Half-past Three by Marc Chagall 1911-12) O celebrated bard, you should know espresso mixed with drags of Gauloise won’t steady your head. Your pondweed face betrays chaos, lays bare a wretched heart, while cubist-dissected skin...
by Sofía Masondo | Aug 29, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Half Past Eleven Much like a burnt-out farmer flumping down upon his ache-allaying, tender bed past toiling in the unforgiving sun, Ma does the same when stove-led tasks are done, heat-pillaged, sapped, and flabby at the head, with arms full splayed. Throughout her...
by Sofía Masondo | Aug 28, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Lot’s Daughters Visit Their Mother Each year we climbed to that place high above the ruins. The first time, our almost-twins bundled in shawls, we found her tall, unyielding, testament to all those she had loved and known: kith, kin, home: the cursed we left behind....
by Sofía Masondo | Aug 27, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Mel Tibbs lives in South Devon where she is completing a Masters degree after a career as a freelance copywriter and magazine editor. She has previously lived in the Midlands and all over the South West, though she grew up in Canada and began raising her own children...
by Sofía Masondo | Aug 26, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
COWBOYS NEVER DIE a cowboy is that split second of doubt between victim and victor, quick whipcrack out the corner of the mouth, then dissolving into being. a good cowboy never introduces herself, wants you to confuse her for some other tasselled...
by Sofía Masondo | Aug 25, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Bust of a Young Man (from the Burrell Collection) Bronze. Roman copy, made in the Eastern Mediterranean. 100 BC – AD 100 I’m nineteen, I’m ancient. I am so hungover one of my eyes has fallen out… He’d come in every Saturday morning, looking rough as...
