Today’s choice

Previous poems

Matthew F. Amati

 

 

 

Hands Said To Head

Hands said to Head
look what you’ve made me do
it’s not me, Head said, talk to
Heart, that guy’s sick, Heart
said whoa buddy, I take cues from
Gut, whence all appetites bloom
Gut growled, said nothing.
Head said rumor is Gut’s got
a second brain down there, cooking up
God knows what. when they brought the cuffs
it was Hands that got shackled tight.
do the dirty work, it’s your mud to wash off.

 

 

Matthew F. Amati was born in Chicago but was asked to leave shortly afterwards. Over 50 of his poems and stories have appeared in Flash Fiction Online, Clockwise Cat, Oddball Magazine and elsewhere. Much of his work is collected at www.mattamati.com

Anna Chorlton

      The Act Summer began with a bike, its frame painted red, one thin wheel. The focus was balance, hours of clinging to walls and doors; fences and fingertips, pigtails and ears. It became about a clown; greasepaint mouth sadways striped dungarees,...

Millie Light

      Ballet audition Bent, a teapot, arthritic neck its handle, lips protruding from the spout she’s irked because I fail to retain the enchaînements. She sees a lazy teen – she doesn’t see a girl walking London each night, imagining death more...

Jonathan Kinsman

      45rpm heart block is a slowness or abnormality in the heart’s rhythm due to a fault in its electrical conduction system. tread wrong here and the needle jumps — skrt-skrt-skrt. iggy pop plays the songs on christmas day, picks from discs wrinkled...

John Chinaka Onyeche

      Portrait of a country   What is your country in a definition? When the first ship anchored on the shore of the Atlantic. My country became an experiment of - forced marriage. As with guns, plough and religious wars, they wedded three adults...

Sapphire Allard

      Memory of Water  When you told me once that grief comes in waves, were you referring to your own death? All of us still living trying to dissect our own meaning as if it were pooled in our hands, slipping through the cracks of our fingers. Perhaps...

Jake Wild Hall

      Alanis Morissette small dark speck on the window looks at me says you are lonely small dark speck on the window laughs says you are surrounded by joy small dark speck on the window stares at me how it stares small dark speck on the window refuses...

Anne Symons

      Golden Shovel after Gwendolyn Brooks ‘We real cool’ A tribute to Khadija Saye 1992 – 2017 Gambian-British artist and photographer She bubbles laughter and we are captivated, caught by real joy in her happiness. So cool – I’m an artist! Rock my...

Andrew Blair

      I want/do not want my daddy He is screaming and crying and wants Me and doesn’t Want me And is not sore and does not want medicine But does not want to stay In bed or get out of bed or go Downstairs or to the window And wants me to go away and...

Jaden Pierce

      Bath Soak me in an acid bath As I seek to test my limits For pain I do not fear And want to conquer Like the great warriors who have Come before me Performing magnificent feats Showing mind over muscle Sitting in the midst of a blaze Yet calm and...