Today’s choice

Previous poems

Maggie Brookes-Butt

 

 

 

Yoga

For you, with your toddler bendiness,
the squat is a natural, easy position
while I hurt-strain, thinking of miners
crouched outside their front doors
on terraced streets, practising every day
in the cramped conditions of their work
until the body adjusted and it became
normal, like living without daylight
and breathing dust, just as we inhale
fumes, drink micro plastics and sieved
sewage without a second’s hesitation.

Forget all that, quiet my whirring brain,
show me how to bow to the animals,
down-dog and cat-cow, rear up together
like cobras, soar into eagles or graceful
cranes flying. Steady each other. My balance
is better than yours for now, though not
my equilibrium. Let us build bridges, cross
legs, fold palms in namaste, look backwards
between our legs, marvel at the topsy-turvy
world and lie side by side, gripping our toes
while I learn from you how to be happy baby.

 

 

Maggie Brookes-Butt is a novelist and poet. Her six poetry collections (as Maggie Butt) are coming together in a New and Selected in January. Her Penguin Random House historical novels are published as Maggie Brookes. Insta: Maggie__Brooke.

Sue Finch 

The moon is a Punch in the sky.

A boy is carrying a bruise.

And nobody is talking to either of them
about ordinary things.

Gerry Stewart

      In My Last Phone Call Did I say it looks like rain? I meant the sky is black with a thirst only crying can quench, clouds smothering the hills. Did I say this was my home? It was a mistake. The walls are collapsing even as I paint myself into a...

S Reeson

There is no evidence anywhere that Albert Einstein ever said the definition of insanity is ‘is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results’ except there he is, all over the Internet, being attributed with having done exactly that.