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.
Ibrar Sami
Across the barren land
where blood once played its savage Holi,
the fearless migratory birds
have returned again.
Anyonita Green
It wobbles slightly, red wine jelly.
I peer at it, nose close enough
to smell the iron, the scent of coagulant,
inhaling through slightly parted lips
Soledad Santana
Seen as she’d hung her cranial lantern
from the roof of her step-father’s garden shed,
the parabolic formula was skipped; like two calves, we followed the fence
to the end of the foot-ball pitch.
Claire Harnett-Mann
Behind the block, the night tears in scrub-calls.
Fox kill scores the morning,
ripped by prints in muck.
Hedy Hume
Stepping into the opposing seat
I smile, and the look I receive
Makes me feel the antisocial one.
Matthew F. Amati
Hands said to Head
look what you’ve made me do
it’s not me, Head said, talk to
Heart, that guy’s sick
Mariam Saidan
‘Female singing constitutes a ‘forbidden act’ (ḥarām),
punishable under Article 638 of the Islamic Penal Code.’
Meg Pokrass
This is what happens when she sits alone in her dining room, eating smoked trout and canned sardines.
Chen-ou Liu
this fresh morning
so much like the others …
yet starlings shape-shift