Today’s choice
Previous poems
Pamilerin Jacob
Annette’s Ode
Slithering through incisor-gap, English leapt
from your lips to mine, a string
between you & me, ringed
with hot coals we slide back & forth
in the air like abacus beads. Coals
that warm & warn: lighting the way
as best they can, although
Yoruba is the exact shape
of the bulb in the room, & we have,
like plants learnt to tilt
in the direction of that Light,
prayers pouring out of you unhindered
like water from a hose
left in the lawn all night, every
cranny of me grateful to be
soaked & nourished
Annette the gap-toothed,
You kissed a man & I was born. You gave him
your laughter & he built an empire,
died, leaving you to mourn. Your one love,
muttering psalms in the grave’s dark
wishing he could return, seeing only
your gap-tooth in the distance
thinking it a door, through which
years ago English leapt, lip to lip
anxious to fulfil the injunction of blood.
Pamilerin Jacob’s poems have appeared in POETRY, Lolwe, The Rumpus, Agbowó, Palette, 20.35 Africa, & elsewhere. He is the Founding Editor of Poetry Column-NND, Poetry Sango-Ota, among others. His manuscript, Blight Fantasia, was a finalist in the Walt McDonald First-Book Poetry Competition 2024.
Jeff Skinner
It takes ages. Tell me what it is you’re after
she says, when finally I get through.
Annabelle Markwick-Staff
I devoured the Olympics, filled my mouth
and scrapbook with sticky ephemera.
Charles G. Lauder
beneath night’s skin he unearths raw stones
serrated encrusted enigmatic cold
Arlo Kean
we are at a cafe just round
the corner from hampstead
heath & sipping berry sunrise
Paul Stephenson
Goya was an octopus that smelt of funerals on Mondays.
Sundays, the scent of getting ready.
Jessica Mookherjee for International Women’s Day
The pain comes plucked from a field
in a garland of sunlight.
Jenny Pagdin for International Women’s Day
After many moons
I am perhaps readying to speak.
Kate Noakes for International Women’s Day
Each year in March, on the eighth day,
the one we’re allowed to call ours,
slowly, Jess reads our names . . .
Julia Webb for International Women’s Day
hoover witch mum / mum on the rocks / mum’s coach horses / all the king’s mums /