by Leah Jun Oh | Apr 30, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Overblown Rose A glassmaker, breathing down a long, metal rod, blowing a bud to a bulb which grows, told what it’s meant to be, how it’s meant to look. Cold, outside air hits; the shoot splits; little notions spitting out from the stem crystallise...
by Leah Jun Oh | Apr 29, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
truth bomb listen I grew up in a suburb where each street was named for a fairy tale in the land of dark forests and grimm siblings and in my mother tongue which brought you rapunzel and rumpelstiltskin no story ends in a twee happily ever after...
by Leah Jun Oh | Apr 27, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Diggers We brought two diggers home, furious black engines, charged and alive, fire eyes with a touch of white. Outside, they clawed the earth, ripped back its skin, made visible its bones, a kingdom of limpet arms, divorced fingers outlining...
by Leah Jun Oh | Apr 25, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
The Farmer’s Daughter As a girl, I would stretch my Easter treats out until my birthday, birthday treats until Halloween Halloween treats until Christmas, Christmas treats until spring, conserving my quarterly reaping as though sweets were root...
by Leah Jun Oh | Apr 24, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Braefoot point The undertread mush swallows chorused gold dropped from the bow of singing beech. Across the track’s split, dark haws bloat, as drumming sticks drip to catch black at the hedge’s throat. There must be new ways to be...
by Leah Jun Oh | Apr 23, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Virus six dark the idiot’s lantern shows me rainbows you branded sick which made me wear masks wash hands as if Lady Macbeth breathless gagging until I spit it out blue eyes turn to pansies fag butts syringes before a ten year talk...
