Today’s choice
Previous poems
Sam Szanto
After a Stillbirth
He had been told the trolley
would be in the corridor at noon.
He could get sandwiches.
It was normally for mothers only
but they’d make an exception.
His wife won’t eat anything.
He has to do something.
He cannot sit and be nothing.
He queues behind
a woman holding a tiny baby,
a woman holding a tiny baby,
a woman holding a tiny baby.
He watches the garrulous juggle,
baby, Diet Coke, sandwich.
They don’t seem to notice him
until he stretches out a hand
for a dry egg and cress.
The server says,
“The trolley is for mothers only.”
Genna Gardini
go back, small cell, atom
slit by light. It takes up
space, an ocean, a planet, a
Fran Hayden
a friend messaged me:
“every time I see sunflowers,
I think of you”
Betty Doyle
Both cast out to sea, I wonder –
did your ashes ever meet?
It was under the same sun setting,
although years and miles apart.
Mark Rutter
when the people are gone
and the wooden house
has been burned down
to recover its nails
Gráinne Daly
Not for me the tomb of Irish soil.
Put me on a plane
and let me make one last journey
before my final departure.
Rebecca Cohen
If you don’t believe in God, my friend says,
why don’t you eat pork?
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.
Steph Morris
Who’s idea was it? I think his, as I’d started
wearing everything from Oxfam. Among my finds
collarless shirts.