Today’s choice

Previous poems

Martin Mooney

 

 

Lapse

Graffiti artists, known as writers, are often misunderstood by society.
Eden Magazine

The footbridge was skinned in graffiti – slogans, threats,
declarations of love, swastikas. Grek. Kost. Lapse.

I’d assumed lapse was a tag, a nom de plume or guerre, but
as the morning drags itself towards noon the word

has surfaced and resurfaced: lapse, lapse, lapse. Noun
or verb? Am I instructed? Warned? By lunchtime

I wonder if it’s even word at all, perhaps the writer
just sprayed shapes that look like L A P S E by fluke.

And by mid-afternoon it’s drained of sense, a dazed
semantic husk, so that as I cross the bridge again

I whisper it to myself as virgin sound, unsaid till now:
brute air lip-shaped, a world in a kind of freefall.

 

Martin Mooney is the author of four collections – Grub (1993), Rasputin and his Children (2000), Blue Lamp Disco (2003) and The Resurrection of the Body at Killysuggen (2011). A New and Selected is due from Greenwich Exchange later in 2026

Linda McKenna

We set about him with rifle butts and spades,
waiting our turn alongside our enemies,
the same sunburnt flesh, the same blistered
feet. Met where our camps, the same

Abigail Ottley

    She remembers the house of her husband He’s not, as they said he is: loathsome, most monstrous. He has a strange and sinister beauty. His eyes are obsidian, shot through with gold, a ruby burning in each. A noble brow, and magnificent cheekbones. You can...