Today’s choice

Previous poems

Andrew Keyman

 

 

 

what you mean to me

wiping tears with drink coasters in soho
revolving around how you’ll both leave and stay
men in the window you kissing my jaw by the pints
i didn’t drink by the ashtray asking when
the arrogance of thinking that anything could be mine
a day later you’re in l.a. picking out cars with the magic
only money can buy
blooming in your vision that we’d find would never come
i’m good at what i do
convincing me and you

taking the tube but never really being there
falling in love with the stranger in the fubu
my neighbour in the kitchen fixing
dinner for his children as an old tired clown
in a fresco of a heaven
forgetting how i left you
sighing out my shoes
my housemate missing calls
and hearing porn behind the drywall

 

 

Andrew Keyman is a poet and artist from Bracknell, England. he was raised by his mother after his father was imprisoned for paedophilia. His work examines religion, goodness and the British working class. He was featured in Bottled Water Research (2019).  Instagram: @andrewkeyman

Mark Carson

he dithers round the kitchen, lifts his 12-string from her hook,
strikes a ringing rasgueado, the echo bouncing back
emphatic from the slate flags and off the marble table.

Elly Katz

When naked with myself, I feel where a right elbow isn’t, then is. I let my left palm guide me through the exhibition of my body.

Sarp Sozdinler

As a kid, Nehisi used to sleep in a treehouse. He could curl right into it from his bedroom window. He would have a hard time falling asleep every time his parents got loud or physical.