Today’s choice
Previous poems
Mark G. Pennington
The sea organ city
Vigo in Autumn is still a furnace
the nightjars
roost on ram-tarmacked roads
and hot guapas carrying fish baskets
in narrow alleys
or chestnut groves
leading to the sands
listen to me
hola
gracias
and other various offences
and when I rest in the mainland
there is a man in a pornographic suit
beside an old olive tree
shading from the sun
and with him is a briefcase
open
showing the box of sandwiches
along comes a water dog
sniffing for explosives
the line trying to catch hake for zarzuela
he closes the case
then waves the animal away
palatially swatting in steaming air
its owner
comes over with the leash
hanging limp
and nooses the dog
ahead of an oyster stall
in the street
and all is beautiful again in the sea organ city
Mark G. Pennington has published three collections of poetry, one chapbook which finished runner-up in the Cerasus chapbook competition, and one novel. He has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize.
Cindy Botha
I notice her because she doesn’t have a dog
in an afternoon of dog-walkers
Alex Josephy
the goddess of the library
extends in cloth-bound curves
along a lettered shelf
Ben Banyard
There were hundreds of them, all in period costume,
each generation explained who they were,
queued like at a wedding reception to greet us.
Lindsay McLeod Espinoza
Venus passed over the south node of the Moon today
Ilse Pedler
She offered up her linen bag to me, said
pick a shell my lady and I’ll tell your fortune
Sue Butler
Squirrels have beheaded all my parrot tulips
and the supermarket is out of chilli, also tabasco sauce.
Cormac Culkeen
the sun is a
white coin
lifted
from the sea
Maurice Devitt
Yes, you gave us your elegant hands
and capricious smile, but as I make my way
to the chiropodist this morning,
it’s your feet I’m thinking of . . .
Martin Ferguson
Pursue the facsimile
of the attendance sign;
here you must join the line.