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      Dasheen  Tuesday: a mountain of rice, one roast potato, two pieces of fried fish with bones and skin softened through oil, draped in sour rings of pepper and onion, home made coleslaw, tea. The plate is piled high and hot before you even take off...

      Magic Will Snowball Once I get out of bed magic will snowball at breakneck pace My 0-60 a thing of beauty I step out of my body Transfixed Step back in Jump out of my head into my body An optimal state Hard for me to access But I’m stubborn Call...

      God Save the People After ‘Decentring Whiteness’ by Darius Simpson the saying goes Black Lives Matter the saying goes Eat the Rich the saying goes celebrate the Queen’s Jubilee  let’s talk about how every monarch between Elizabeth I and George III...

      Background Title This poem is called listen to the background noise or have a chat with the person next to you or I wonder what they'll say next or I love overhearing breakups or they were roommates or I wrote this at a poetry reading hosted by...

      Wild Years And so give me wild summers. Give me long, soft nights and give me streets that snake, and steal, and grow dark. And so give me campfire lungs. Give me hot skin and give me well-read books that belch, and spit, and grow light. And so...

      End Credits  You sneak into my body between old ladies chanting in the fourties  and a soprano who extolls the spring. As she reaches immeasurable heights you sneak in bolder You’re made of music. You gave away your secret and now it’s too late to...

      Buffer // Birth   face was born from a broken mirror, this line on my left cheek the fracture. when does this body become spirit; untethered upon absence of framework. this morning, it has split further. like a panther on boar rips hide from...

      Ones And Zeros Of An Endless Monday I’m having a crisis meeting at The Ivy with the Marketing Aficionados you recommended bending an iron bar until everyone stops clapping pull serious faces say they’re gonna open me up see if there’s anything...

      For the boy playing with silk scarves at 2:25am here’s something to wear to cover over the head and the ears for those who come up to you with questions that sound like threats here’s something to wear if you’ve ever needed to hide the throbbing...

      Yearnings StJohns won’t let the crowlight in, only sparrowbeams and antdark. StJohns is over-alive with noise – day and night, it never stops. Owlish stuffs her ears with balled-up toilet paper, buries her head under the sofa cushions. Dadward’s...

      The Tuesday the world changed for aardvarks I never liked rain. And today it raged. Flooded into the sand that is our bed. It drenched the warm corners where I cuddle with Bert away from daylight. The ants ran from it and I was unable to resist...

      The Rose Queen Even now, looking at the photos I cannot see myself there, on the edges heels on the curb, with my sister, watching the queens on walking day take a lead behind the mounted police. The brassed bands, the drums the beat and blow of...

      From Lines by Kenneth Patchen #48 ‘Yet there will be peace in certain parts of the city; sonnets dripping like moss from the walls; women holding their gifts out, arms, thighs, their quick song…’ — Kenneth Patchen, ‘The Hunted City’ This body of...

      Discussing Maternity Leave He sits behind his desk, hands folded across his belly, frowning over his expensive specs. His eyes, his shiny crown, his wedding ring. Oh My God, I think. Is he visualising it? Me, shagging? Does he think I’ve neglected...

      FAGGOT pt2 I am more than my shoes, Even the black boots I wear Day in day out to work rubbed smooth on the soles. I am more than the cheap-end shirts That hide my tits and that you Frown at, openly, at the shop, the park, On the bus after a long...

      Into the Orkney Sky That spring, I learned how to fly. Willed my small arms hollow, thrust them into a long coat and made wings as the wind rose from plaintive selkie cry to fury’s register. I spread myself gull-like into the sea’s salt-feathered...

      Grandmother during the war Turn to the afternoon sun, boys, turn to the cobalt sky, but shield your faces from the blast and smoke. Your grandmother is planting sunflowers early this year; three in each pot for luck. The glass in her greenhouse is...