Today’s choice

Previous poems

Sreeja Naskar

 

 

 

everything i love is out to sea

glass-tooth morning.
salt mouth.
i left the stove on just to feel wanted.

the sea wrote back once—
in lowercase.
smudged.
untranslated.

i drank it anyway.

//

the sun fell behind me like
a dog you didn’t name.
didn’t stay.

i speak in splinters now.
no full words.
just
kitchen tile
cracks in the paint
the hum of things unplugged.

the mug is chipped.
the coffee’s been cold since ’06.
conversations curdle at the rim.
nobody drinks.
everybody talks.

//

i laughed at the funeral /
no one was there /
not even me

what i mean is—
i’ve been alive too long
in the wrong tense

& no one noticed
when i folded
my joy
like laundry
& forgot it
in someone else’s drawer.

//

i saw her—
knees to her chest,
eating a poem
like stale bread
with no butter.
still said thank you.

they call it healing
when you leave the wound open
& just name it sky.

//

everything i love is out to sea.
no letters.
no flares.
just
float.
drift.
unclench.

(i keep setting the table anyway.)

 

 

Sreeja Naskar is a poet from West Bengal, India. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Poems India, Modern Literature, Gone Lawn, Eunoia Review, ONE ART, among other literary journals. She believes in the quiet power of language to unearth what lingers beneath silence.

Pascal Vine and – – – ajae – – – for our Invisible and Visible Disabilities Feature

Chronic fuck slug
Chronic floor sleeping
Chronic fist seething
Chronic food swallowing
Chronic feuding skin
Chronic foreseen surrender
Chronic failure synonym
Chronic sel(f)-inlictednes(s)
Chronic found inner-piece(s)
Chronic forcibly sending love (&) (kisse(s))
Chronic we (f)ucking mi(s)s you

– Pascal Vine

breaking through the battering lashings of exhaustion and overwhelm,
a quiet, passionate voice buds within you.
it exasperatingly sprouts and presses and pouts, saying:
“we’re forever dogged!
it’s forever dusk!
our soul’s been over-tillaged!
you’re becoming but a husk!
we need a rest
we need a break please!
our brittle bones are steeped in ache.”

– – – ajae – – –

Ellie Spirrett and Erin Coppin for our invisible and visible disabilities feature

This is the first time you have been out in three weeks.
Today sits like a joker between diamonds. Your punctured
skin sags over your bones, and you have dragged it
dangerously down the tarmac to mine this charity
shop for new parts.

– Ellie Spirrett

the riding of bikes
the rhythm of legs
the wind-driven tears
the wobbling turns
the handlebarred bags
the motion, the motion

-Erin Coppin

Jonathan Croose

The gravel drive seems longer now,
the knock feels like a split of skin
and out on the fen road, by now there are chalk marks,
diagrams and calculations, cones and contraflows,
plastic zips and silent spinning lights.
No more need for sirens there,
but here, here on the doorstep, every alarm must ring.

Gary Jude

The mandibles look like the tusks
of some gigantic bull elephant bagged
by hunters posing for a photograph
in pith helmets next to a tent
and a wind up phonograph.

David Keyworth

Aldgate had its usual smell of dirty metal and coffee. I jumped from platform to carriage. I squeezed beside a Tate Britain poster, clutched the grab-handle. When I chanced a glance, I saw I was the only one standing. Everyone else was wearing spacesuits.

Winifred Mok, Sandra Noel, Özge Lena and Alannah Taylor for Earth Day

we groan as the mercury hikes
climbing with the ball of fire
the Hot Weather Warning surrenders its flag
feels like 40 and it’s only May Day

-Winifred Mok

where geese balance on one leg
sleeping inside themselves
until they wake for hours of sun
and swimming

-Sandra Noel

You are walking in a half empty street. Carrying a rifle, you are hunting for canned food. Sultry evening falls like an electrified blanket, leaving you breathless. The world you know is long gone. The world has already surrendered to the heat waves followed by water wars, hunger wars. And hunger is a crazy carnivore in your belly. You turn a corner to see two rifles. Pointed at you. You shoot the air calmly.

-Özge Lena

I might eat more slowly, breathe more deeply the fragrance of nettle steep, be more mindful of
the miracle of vegetables of promising colour glinting in the oil of a pan, I might grind my molars
with the thought close that their substance, too, is borrowed from the minerals of the ground

-Alannah Taylor