Today’s choice
Previous poems
Sue Butler
Pilates Zoom
We cultivate the knack
of getting down on the floor and
back up three or four times each day.
The constellation of cables,
chips and thin air through which
our leader observes us is mysterious
as prayer, more predictable, precise.
One’s ability to rise from the floor
after falling is a blessing now,
its practice a daily office. Careful
not to let my knee travel forward of my toes.
I am reminded of genuflection.
My mother would call herself a heathen
when she told us how her marriage almost
began with her tipping over the alter rail
as my father paused to cross himself,
go down one one knee. I breathe, in child’s pose,
all the way down into the bottom of my back,
making space between the vertebrae.
We are all atheists now. There is an earring butterfly
under the sofa. Later I will kneel again to fish it out.
Sue Butler took up both walking and Creative Writing in retirement from a career in General Practice; both unpredictable forms of meditation on life, its grace, pain and peculiarity.
Her pamphlet Learning from the Body is published by Yaffle Press.
Simon Williams
I Want to Become
a weasel, in a sleeky, twisty body,
all eyes and teeth like a deadly zip.
Zoe Davis
I joined a secret society
advertised in the back pages of a magazine.
I forget which, but I found it nestled
in 8pt font and fancy border
between time share apartments in Lanzarote
and the commemorative plates.
Callan Waldron-Hall
long weekend ← or ← perhaps ↑ summer holiday →
from the back of someone’s car boot ↑ the strange →
sweated plastic all pink and blue and folded →
Amy King
We’re drinking wine in your kitchen, months before
the hot oil of my concern begins to spit.
Jenny Robb
You notice the crepe of your neck and belly first.
This skin you bake in the sun.
Pat Edwards
Watching the ‘Strictly’ Results Show on a Sunday night
Knowing what we know about the pain of the world,
who wins and who loses might feel like a betrayal.
Rebecca Gethin
Oh walk with me up the slippery lane
when the frost has turned to ice.
Jean Atkin
Wear a coat, you’ll pass through light rain at the wood-edge
under Helmeth. Sing loudly, so the snakes can hear you.
Caleb Parkin
Nature Is Healing
It constructs membranes
between its most powerful organs,
filters pathogens hidden in boats.