Today’s choice
Previous poems
Claire Lynn
Out of Place
I lie back, arch my throat,
pretend to relax. Contemplate
ceiling tiles, and women
who do this weekly
for pleasure. A basin
strangles me. The palm
of a hand realigns my head: this
is how the ironing board feels
when you dance with it.
I agree to a full fringe
because I can’t identify
the part of the question
I don’t understand. Christmas
seems to come round faster
each year. My small talk
shrinks. I spray
DON’T SPEAK TO ME
across my reflection.
I’d like to foreclose, cut
the blow dry, but am helpless
as a mermaid; surrender
to hot brush and serum.
Release lifts my hair
like the tail of a kite. I run
all the way home.
Claire Lynn was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best Single Poem in 2025. She won the Tyne and Wear Metro Poetry Prize in 2023, and has been published in magazines such as Butcher’s Dog, Pennine Platform and Alchemy Spoon.
Rizwan Akhtar
What fell between an abrupt shower
and a sky’s attitude was your memory.
Jeff Gallagher
Colleagues munching bap and burger
thought Ramadan was that juicy winger,
his scorching pace soon snaffled up by City.
Sue Moules
Sings at the top of the bare-branched tree
an aubade to morning
welcomes the light,
early spring, season of nest-making.
Andrew Tucker Leavis
as the tanker tore
its throat against the
shallow spine, as
the village unravelled
Patricia Minson
Between the trees dust shifts,
light fractures like a prism.
A cathedral silence greens the air.
B. Anne Adriaens
The French term terrain vague enfolds
a plot of land I thought at first was vague,
undefined and malleable.
John Bartlett
mornings
I wake wary
of abundance
wondering why I’m still here
and then I recall
all the green leaves
with their hiding birds
Maya Little
I’m trying to stop thinking about what I want to not // be. Sometimes I have looked into my heart and found that // everything’s packed up.
Liz Byrne
I want to be two-tongued again
To go back to the time when I slipped
from one language to another with ease,