Today’s choice

Previous poems

Matt Bryden

 

 

 

Lightly a god, if he wishes, can save a man, even from far off 

Now a blanket is spread, offerings
of chutney and shin bones, 

a taper held to the fire
that heats the tar beneath our boats.
 
A phial of bathwater discolours on a shelf,
unemptied since the day she was taken.

A pigeon in the role of catastrophist at the feast.
And Tiresias there, blindly 

reading auguries of birds 
from the mishmash of their sounds. 

 

Matt Bryden is a teacher and father living in Devon. His most recent publication is The Glassblower’s House (2023, Live Canon). He is Royal Literary Fellow at the University of Plymouth www.mattbrydenpoetry.co.uk

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...