Today’s choice
Previous poems
Gordan Struić
To no one
After
you deleted
your profile,
I had
no number.
No email.
No name
to search.
Just
a blinking cursor
where you
used to reply.
Still —
I kept
writing.
Sometimes
just:
“Hi.”
Or
“Would you have answered
today?”
Or
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Or
“This morning hurt more
than usual.”
I never
hit send.
I never
had to.
They ended up
where you used to be.
And maybe
that’s enough
to keep
the silence warm.
Gordan Struić is a poet and writer from Zagreb, Croatia. He writes at the edge of signal and silence, where unsent messages, ghosted chats, and invisible departures echo longer than words. His work appears or is forthcoming in 34th Parallel, Voidspace, Beyond Words, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Prosetrics Magazine, among others.
Simon Williams
I Want to Become
a weasel, in a sleeky, twisty body,
all eyes and teeth like a deadly zip.
Zoe Davis
I joined a secret society
advertised in the back pages of a magazine.
I forget which, but I found it nestled
in 8pt font and fancy border
between time share apartments in Lanzarote
and the commemorative plates.
Callan Waldron-Hall
long weekend ← or ← perhaps ↑ summer holiday →
from the back of someone’s car boot ↑ the strange →
sweated plastic all pink and blue and folded →
Amy King
We’re drinking wine in your kitchen, months before
the hot oil of my concern begins to spit.
Jenny Robb
You notice the crepe of your neck and belly first.
This skin you bake in the sun.
Pat Edwards
Watching the ‘Strictly’ Results Show on a Sunday night
Knowing what we know about the pain of the world,
who wins and who loses might feel like a betrayal.
Rebecca Gethin
Oh walk with me up the slippery lane
when the frost has turned to ice.
Jean Atkin
Wear a coat, you’ll pass through light rain at the wood-edge
under Helmeth. Sing loudly, so the snakes can hear you.
Caleb Parkin
Nature Is Healing
It constructs membranes
between its most powerful organs,
filters pathogens hidden in boats.