Today’s choice

Previous poems

Daniel Sluman

 

Ceilings

just as the night sky shifts
beyond the minds

of the animals outside

the ceilings
we are pressed beneath change

in aspect & colour

each evening they drop
a little closer

in rooms that carry us
from one year

to the next

we float below water stains
& cracks

lit like reels of stars

my faith
in a better reality frayed

to a single thread

as I scan the cobwebbed beams
in silence

& wait for a sign
that refuses to drop

lidocaine-bright
or yellowed from bowers of smoke

some nights only darkness seems
to keep the roof up

& each evening
the quietness wraps

a little tighter
as we sink into the sheets

eyes dazed shut

our prayers like hands
crawling

over the drips of faux-plaster

how our shirts slip from one colour
to the next

& time is always in deficit

catching up or catching on
to something half-gone

 

 

Daniel Sluman is a 39-year-old poet and disability rights activist. He co-edited the first major UK Disability poetry anthology Stairs and Whispers: D/deaf and Disabled Poets Write Back, and he has published three poetry collections with Nine Arches Press. His most recent collection, single window was released in September 2021, and was shortlisted for the TS Eliot Prize.

Emily A. Taylor

I move my hand long
so yours will follow, and though
this moment tastes of tequila soda
paracetamol pillowed on a fizzing tongue
amnesia… pull me in anyway.

Steph Morris

No way would they let him keep that tag. They saw
a boy they must rename, must mark
from them, a boy whose limbs folded far too gently,

Eryn McDonald

It is here that the day breaks apart
Like ice on frustrated frozen pond
Here in the grounds of Ashton Court
I wish to bury myself amongst the green

Stephen Keeler

The days were huge and kind
and sometimes after school

we’d buy a bag of broken biscuits
for the long walk home

across the heavy heat of afternoon
on lucky days she wouldn’t take

the pennies offered up in supplication