Today’s choice
Previous poems
Nathan Curnow
A Survey of Radial Velocities in the Zodiacal Dust Cloud
-the PhD title of Brian May from Queen
I like to think it’s a story about himself and Einstein
floating in zero gravity, Albert sailing through the capsule
toward his drifting pipe, Brian playing We Will Rock You—
two wild-haired sons on a one-way mission
live-streamed back to Earth, voyaging into Sagittarius A
for the black hole’s ancient thoughts.
Albert’s all a-giggle, barrel-rolling like a seal,
while Brian traces Gemini with the neck of his guitar.
Conversations loop back to Freddie and the stage
of Austria, how destiny, chaos, science and dust
landed them here and there, which is far behind already,
the calm wanderers sailing on, delivering lessons
about the multiverse and the mysteries of stadium rock.
A riff generates a reaction, sets fire to sails in the bay.
An equation must be neat, hum with horror until
our Saviour wakes to the lowing of cattle.
The broadcast breaks. Our pioneers lost in data and debris
arrive at new Bethlehems birthing, being
torn from those that failed. Brian and Albert shatter,
their thesis considered, renewed—
a story of stars chewing story, earworms
creating the devouring hole.
Nathan Curnow is based in Ballarat, Australia. His poems have appeared in The Rialto and the New Nottingham Journal and his latest collection is A Hill to Die On.
Note: The phrases ‘two wild-haired sons’ and ‘the calm wanderers’ are taken from the poem Naming the Stars by Australian poet Judith Wright, first published in 1963.
Maggie Brookes-Butt
For you, with your toddler bendiness,
the squat is a natural, easy position
while I hurt-strain, thinking of miners
crouched outside their front doors
Sally Michaelson
Heads under bonnets
mechanics catch a wiff
of a girl passing
Carmen Marcus
extract from The Keen Is ar scath a Chéile a mhaireann na daoine: It is in the shadow of each other we live. Watching with the dying. Travelling with the dead. Phyllida Anam-Áire; The Celtic Book of Dying, Findhorn Press, Vermont, 2022 Àite...
Nina Parmenter
When The Threat of Hell Failed
God created the lanyard,
Bel Wallace
Month by month I felt my muscles harden
these hefty horns grew from my long skull
Stephen Keeler
Something about arriving somewhere new
just as afternoon is leaving . . .
Geraldine Stoneham
The silence and peace of this place
creeps through on birdsong.
Emma Lee
The instruction invites overthinking:
describe your hometown through
the medium of simple sentences
Vanessa Napolitano
I ask my father to dinner, pretending he is still alive,
ask him what he’d like. He says a pork chop which is not
something I know how to cook.