Today’s choice

Previous poems

Kate Vanhinsbergh

 

 

 

We Should Probably Get Up Now

but, outside, the world has paused:
the wind has put down its loneliness,

its fear of never being seen, or known,
and next door’s kids have stopped screaming

through the wall. The cats are curled up
around our ankles, and you say you like me

like this, with the sun falling in slabs
through the window, onto my hair,

my curls glowing orange on the pillow.
You touch my cheek

with the backs of your fingers.
In this room, we have nothing but time –

glasses of water; a vase of white roses;
miles of cotton drawn up and spun

from the earth. I could have believed
that all chances, all paths crossed

were love’s quiet design,
the architecture of its concussive maze.

 

 

Kate Vanhinsbergh is a poet from Manchester, UK, and can be found on Instagram @kate.vanhinsbergh or X @katevanbergh

Ansuya Patel

Women scrape coins from their purse,
count pennies, one lifts up a watermelon
in mid-air like raising a newborn to light.

Abiodun Salako

a boy grows tired
of dying again and again.

                                                                                                                                       i am building him a morgue
                                                                                                                                                       for Thanksgiving.

Patrick Wright

It’s as if the dream
is telling me we are still joined
somehow, despite waking
and me trudging on, even though
your voicemail is off, your locks
changed.

William Collins

We carry the shame of Paragraph 352D
folded into suitcases at foreign borders,
where love is questioned like a crime,
and disbelief stamped heavier than visas.
They tell us to run for our lives —
but only if we can do it quietly.

Oz Hardwick

The ghost of my mother knows the names of everything, but
she can’t tell me, because ghosts, whatever you have heard
to the contrary, can’t speak.