Today’s choice

Previous poems

Jenny Mitchell

 

 

 

Poison Takes the Place of Food
 
There’s no one in the flat when I come home from school,
my dinner in the fridge – poison on a flowered plate,
covered with tin foil, surrounded by full shelves of poison.

I warm mine up, dust with salt but it still tastes like food.
My mother hates to cook, burning what is not left raw,
saying it’s a waste of time feeding me good poison.

Trudging home from work, she’s weighed down with
two bags of poison – shouting that it’s all for her,
piling up a plate, eating off a tray in front of the TV.

Colombo shows a woman given food slipped in her poison.
She faints and slowly dies, frothing at the mouth. I watch
my mother scoff down poison, not taking time to chew.

The bright lights from the screen turn her skin a sickly blue,
fire engine red. She cleans the plate, licks the knife,
goes to raid the fridge again. I want to give her food.

 

 

Jenny Mitchell won the Gregory O’Donoghue Prize 2023, and the Poetry Book Awards for Map of a Plantation, a Manchester Metropolitan University set text. The prize-winning collection, Her Lost Language, is One of 44 Poetry Books for 2019 (Poetry Wales). Her latest collection, Resurrection of a Black Man, contains three prize-winning poems.

Rhian Thomas

On my phone a newsreel shows a car boot lifting
just above the flood. Tail lights like eyes 

caught in a comic gasp, while its body, like the carriageway,
lies under sixty million litres of last night’s rain. 

Sue Norton

Today I tipped the packet of coffee
into the cafetiere instead of the tin.
Caught myself in time, didn’t pour water in.

Kathy Pimlott 

      Going down to do lights and curtains to fool any burglars Twilight: one after another security lights click on illuminating pathways, steps, empty front lawns, triggered by my benign progress, then, disappointed, click off. The sky is a layer cake...