Today’s choice
Previous poems
Jason Lovell
Roberto – Market Bird
While children kneel at your cage in awe
edge offerings of cashew nuts, chopped fruit,
curse words into your magnificent beak,
mums settle carrier bags at tired wet feet
delay for flashes of Hulk Hogan yellow beneath
that fancy marine tuxedo.
I’d say you’re more Mexican wrestler than U S of A
more El Santo than Bret The Hitman Hart –
flexing that zebra-print mask bought off a man
who knows a man who was seeing a man about a dog
when they fell off the back of a van or a lorry.
I bet your feathers run smooth as one-way traffic
on Federal Highway 45D between Mexico City & Querétaro.
Bet your poison dart frog eye spied me the day
I dared my arm deep into a cool sack of sunflower hearts
for the sheer closed-in-ness of it.
So, what, Roberto, is your finishing move?
The Claw Hammer! The Flying Bottle Opener!
perhaps… the Jalapeno Lock Pick!
& nowww… innn the red corner!… Weighing in
at 1.5 kilograms!… Hailing from the rainforest of Brazil!
O Pequeno Mágico Roberto!
Yes, if you could shapeshift into anything,
it would be the greatest magician in the pet shop,
vanish the ache of reappearing.
In 2025 Jason Lovell received both the Freedom to Write Award from the John Hewitt Society/Irish PEN and the Seamus Heaney Award for New Writing. A Forward Prize 2026 nominee, he is supported by the Arts Council NI. His work has appeared in Abridged, Ragaire and Fortnight.
Note: Āra : large, brightly coloured neotropical parrots specifically the Ara macaw / derived from the Latin for ‘altar’
Francis de Lima
Oh London. U useless city. Map to
nowhere land. Tight stretch
open eye. The underground metal.
The night tube. The railway. Smog
Over coaltrip. The presence
Of machine upon machine. U
Miriam Swales
When I was 12, I knew the weight of a human head.
8 Heads in a Duffel Bag (a bit of dark comedy).
It grew from there. The curiosity. The calculations.
Alison Pritchard
By what rough science
were you given
this migraine of a name
Matt Gilbert
Disgust springs up from the guts
to meet a sprinting lump
of furry muscle.
Kathleen Bryson
I am the dreaming herpetogaster chimera and
I am part-and-parcel of the impossible animals project.
Scott Lilley
I’ve seen dozens of you about the Fylde,
face all vape, fatigue, some wild sense of
beard, black hair to border it all.
Rich Yates
The bird
crept up on him, threw its voice into an empty tree
Annie Kissack
Girl Awaits the Psychic Investigators They’re late. The table is laid with a clean cloth, all normal and neat. Our visitors, city men, may find it hard to navigate the path but we can wait. They hope to gather evidence of a haunting; whether he’ll...
Jim Murdoch
We don’t decide who we love.
Who we hate, yes,
who we’re jealous of,
but never who we end up loving.
