Today’s choice
Previous poems
Jacob Mckibbin
weeks after being stabbed
my brother saw his attacker
at a petrol station
my brother was alone &
did not get out of the car
even in the ambulance
my brother said he wasn’t scared
even when the white bathtowel
we pressed against the stab wound
soaked up so much blood
it had its own heartbeat
my brother told the police
guarding his hospital bed
at first he thought
he was only being punched
even cut skin doesn’t want to believe
in the existence of knives
even before the guilty plea
my brother said he wouldn’t go to court
my brother is more likely to share a cell
with someone who would kill him
than to admit the person
who tried to kill him
had scared him
Jacob Mckibbin is a poet and writer from Oxford. He has had work published in several magazines including The Rialto and Oxford Poetry.
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 /
Sue Burge for International Women’s Day
speaks whale, speaks star
breathes in — tight as a tomb
breathes out — splintered crackle
Gill Connors for International Women’s Day
Rack and stretch her, loosen flesh
from bone. A jointed bird will not squawk.
Helen Ivory for International Women’s Day
A woman somewhere is typing on the internet
my heart wakes me up like clockwork.
Hélène Demetriades
At breakfast my man sticks a purple
magnolia bud in my soft boiled egg.
The flower opens, distilling to lilac.
Stuart Henson
Sometimes I’m surprised there’s light
in dark places, those corridors, those alleys
where you wouldn’t stray if you didn’t need
Richard Stimac
Trends of lead, silver, copper, and zinc
vein the middle of Missouri . . .
David R. Willis
. . . something, cold
wet and bitter, saline
sided by yellow sand . . .