Today’s choice

Previous poems

Alex Searle

by | Jul 2, 2026 | ,

 

 

 

 

Something started you to wake,
leaving sockprints in the parquet,
there was only the dark,
until a hair sliver of light
softly glowed on your feet asleep.
Behind the closed door,
he was there,
your father,
smoking quietly
with himself
staring at the black,
a familiar witness
to the screaming matches
riddling your ears.
You creak on the cold wood
wanting to go in and lie in his lap,
but the light turns off,
your feet become invisible again,
he does not emerge.
You go back to bed,
the light stays black
but he does not emerge.

 

 

Alex Searle is a South African-based writer of essays and poems exploring childhood, relationships, culture and the embodied masculine. He is also a musician, podcaster and corporate poet. He publishes frequently on Substack @alexsearle

Maurice Devitt

by | Aug 6, 2025 | ,

Yes, you gave us your elegant hands
and capricious smile, but as I make my way
to the chiropodist this morning,
it’s your feet I’m thinking of . . .