Today’s choice

Previous poems

Matt Gilbert

 

 

 

A Rat Decides to Change its Place
 
Disgust springs up from the guts
to meet a sprinting lump
of furry muscle.

Only to be ambushed
by a brilliance of nose, a skittering
perfection of racing claws,

Sleek brown legs, pumping
from the stewed-tea shade
of rain damp oaks

scud towards a pool, below
a crumbled, redbrick efficiency
of Victorian engineering.

Solid body plunging into water,
with the same gratifying, staccato plop
a stone makes, as it hits the target.

 

 

Matt Gilbert is from Bristol, but currently lives in South London. His work has appeared in various publications, including Dust, Ink Sweat & Tears and The Rialto. His debut collection Street Sailing was published by Black Bough Poetry in 2023.

Bel Wallace

      Interior My dear, I washed you out of my sheets. And now I sleep softly in them. My dreams are sweet and free. I opened the windows to air out your smoke. I liked it for a while, how it held the past in its wispy fingers. I emptied your cigarette...

Martin Fisher

Inside, in the half-light, the iron rot took hold.
Forgotten service–obsolete.
Salt-coin neglect.

The money flowed inland,
Moored on an hourglass choke.
No one told the sea.