Today’s choice
Previous poems
From the Archives: In Memory of Jean Cardy
Denizens
Mice live in the London Tube.
A train leaves
and small pieces of sooty black
detach themselves
from the sooty black walls
and forage for crumbs
in the rubbish under the rails
that are death to man.
You can’t see their feet move.
They scurry like clockwork mice
and then they accelerate
faster than any clockwork mouse,
faster than the eye can follow.
Your eye jerks to keep up with them.
There are usually three.
You can tell when a commuter has spotted one;
he becomes alert, alive –
it makes you realize the half-world
the other passengers exist in.
Once, a mouse came onto the platform
and sat, cleaning his whiskers,
watched by a silent circle
of respectful giants,
tall as Nelson’s column.
Jean Cardy was a friend to IS&T and proof that it is never too late to keep writing and submitting poetry. She had three collections and many poems published. In her eighties she was teaching Creative Writing for U3A. She died on 20th January, a week before her 100th birthday – that telegram would not have impressed in any case.
We say goodbye to her today.
‘Denizens’ was selected by Helen Ivory, unaware of the connection between Jean and IS&T publisher Kate Birch. It was originally published on 16th June 2013.
Judith Wilkinson
If I can shape-change myself if I can
reassemble the rubble of my vision
so I can re-see
dragonflies, apocalypses, trivia
Juliet Humphreys
Look at me, look —
night eyes find their way
without light.
Damon Hubbs
How a Plastic Bag in an Elm Tree on Winter St. Learned to Mimic the Moon
It’s growing in what was once the tree
with the great green room.
It’s singing in yogurt
and fluttering like an amorphous pearl
of necrosis.
Shasta Hatter
Empty Basket
Driving down the boulevard, I see large trees decorated with pink and white blossoms, evergreens tower over houses, trees flourish with spring greenery.
Tim Dwyer
The kitchen window has been
my hermit cell
Cindy Botha
what shows up at dusk
moths of course, pale parings―
filmy, restless
dark swarf of birds homeflitting
to perch-trees
sometimes a hedgehog
nosing leaflitter
an owl wooing from the pines
Vic Pickup
Operation Alphaman
It took a great effort and I had to bite hard on the stick
to push the subcostal muscles aside.
The skin had parted easily under my knife,
though keeping the blood at bay with no one to swab the wound
was difficult. This was remedied with a vacuum cleaner
Julian Brasington
When one has lived a long time alone
and not alone your time become
someone’s history and you have grown
tired of yet another war and the world
has it in for you simply for being
Jason Conway
I heard a rumour that Pandora moonlights
She wears sunglasses in the lounge
knives flexed and ready for battle