Today’s choice
Previous poems
Sam Szanto
After a Stillbirth
He had been told the trolley
would be in the corridor at noon.
He could get sandwiches.
It was normally for mothers only
but they’d make an exception.
His wife won’t eat anything.
He has to do something.
He cannot sit and be nothing.
He queues behind
a woman holding a tiny baby,
a woman holding a tiny baby,
a woman holding a tiny baby.
He watches the garrulous juggle,
baby, Diet Coke, sandwich.
They don’t seem to notice him
until he stretches out a hand
for a dry egg and cress.
The server says,
“The trolley is for mothers only.”
Rongili Biswas
Girls under the tree,
one with hands clasped as in worship,
the others picking
the scarlet fallen seeds
Laura Sheahen
What is the ancient curse they know that you don’t
Moving along their mouth-lines and their eyebrows
Lowering their lids, tensing their nods or shrugs
Marilyn Ricci
After his baby son died he strapped
a tumble dryer to his back and ran
the roads around the village.
Wendy Clayton
I’m always thinking about how I can find more human beings.
Kate Leah Hewett
Sorry, but I’ve stopped
cleaning the windows.
Winifred Mok
Perhaps it’s because
I look like
I’m just passing through
Col Fleetwood
Unmoored on an ocean of heather
no wind to pluck the strings
of the aeolian harp
Amlanjyoti Goswami
Those night boats are back.
Fishermen string their nets
Counting fresh catch.
Brian Kirk
That was the time you caught
the mumps and I was half
afraid I’d catch it too.