Today’s choice

Previous poems

Khairina Anindya, Genevieve Beech

 

 

 

Khair 

At the feet 
of al-Ka‘ba 
you asked for a daughter. 

You named me 
Khair – Blessing. 

I answered 
inside you 
forcing myself into your ribs 

remaking you 
in the emptiness of your lungs. 

in the space he made— 
his shoes 
left in the doorway 

your words— 
not at the tip of your tongue 
but caught at your teeth. 

imprinting your face and his 
I carry you 
under my tongue.

 

 

Khairina Anindya is an engineer from Indonesia, currently based in the Netherlands. She writes poetry shaped by culture and memory. She enjoys reading across different literary traditions.

 

 

 

BIRTHLIGHT

You are ordinary
to the teenager on the bus,
the doctor at our six-week check.

Everywhere, mothers birth
their own gold-spun miracles
with features much like yours.

But I felt you move, 
little wish, inside 
my body, inside its mist.

I knew you first as fable,
a not-yet thing darting under skin,
a lantern held in the halfway.

Before I siphoned your light
outside me, and you flickered,
soared, and the world was changed.

 

 

Genevieve Beech is the creator of Motherlore Magazine on care, matrescence and ecology. Motherlore can be found in the Women’s Art Library, Goldsmiths, and featured in ‘M(other)ing’ 2025 at Virginia Tech Perspective Gallery. Genevieve enjoys the many veins of bookmaking.

Irene Cunningham

Lavender seeps. I expect my limbs to leaden, lead the body down through sheet, mattress-cover, into the machinery of sleep where other lives exist.

Graham Clifford

The Still Face Experiment 

You must have seen that Youtube clip 

where a mother lets her face go dead. 

Her toddler carries on burbling for twenty to thirty seconds until she realises there is nothing coming back to her. 

Ilias Tsagas

I used to dial your number to hear your voice. I would hold the receiver for a long time as if your voice was trapped inside . . .