Today’s choice

Previous poems

H.J. Thomas

 

 

 

Black Cherry Ice Cream

We ate it leaning against the rail
above the harbour –
black cherry,
melting down the cone
faster than we could catch it.

And you laughed,
mouth red,
sunlight flaring in your lashes.

I watched the boats move below us –
slow beasts with canvas wings –
and thought:
this is joy.

Not fireworks,
not promises,
not certainty.

Just you,
offering me a bite
from your side
of the cone.

And the sweetness –
sharp and floral,
ripe as August before it turns.

 

H.J. Thomas is a poet based in Durham, UK. His work explores grief, queerness, and hope. He is working on his first collection, still here, and a second, Songs of Vancouver Island. Previously unpublished.

Lesley Curwen

Her feet snagged in a cleverly-placed net
my sister waits for him to untangle her,
to hold her head still between thick fingers . . .

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My heart is breaking, so I’m setting up my new Wonder Oven.
The waft of toxicity as I run it on empty for ten minutes
is a welcome distraction.

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The first wristwatch was first worn
in 1810, despite what old turn-it-up
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Alone, I drive along the midnight, winter road. My left hand at the 12 o’clock position of the steering wheel. And I coast. I let out the day’s long breath, which started out today as a sigh.