Today’s choice
Previous poems
Kay Feneley
Office Workers Against Sewage
Some days I must immerse myself in the waters
These days are more than others
Monday 09.06 – a sewage overflow has activated
Some days on the shore silence as we change
snuggle mugs, pass biscuits around
Tuesday 15.01- a sewage overflow has activated
Some days the choppiness is fun
we bounce along together
Wednesday 11:17 – a sewage overflow has activated
These days should make me buoyant
give purpose, community, bread
Thursday 17.47 – a sewage overflow has activated
Some days the mist disguises, I float
undisturbed by particulates of shit
Friday 12:52 – a sewage overflow has activated
Some days the smell lingers, stomach turns
mid-morning start to shiver
Sunday 23.59 – a sewage overflow has activated
Some days I dread going in
These days are more than others
Kay Feneley lives and writes in London, mostly as a civil servant but also poetry making sense of life as a disabled, neurodiverse woman. She was shortlisted in the Bridport Poetry Prize and publication includes Black Iris and Wildfire Words.
Edward Vanderpump
The bridge is beyond the city.
I don’t know anything about the war.
Ships cannot come here on account of the war.
Glenn Hubbard
The cart stands axle deep in seething water.
The blade emerges from the foam, its load
bituminous and black . . .
Kushal Poddar
The child resurfaces.
The morning has no colour yet.
Philip Rösel Baker
He allows the sound to pour
through invisible canals inside his body,
outpacing dull analysis,
quickening cells, illuminating mind,
like blinds lit from within.
LGBT Feature with Elizabeth Gibson, Jay Whittaker and Rob Miles
Syncing
Butch elegy
If he asked about the grave
LGBT Feature with Jaime Lock and Simon Maddrell
Transmasculine kiss
To The Committee on Homosexual Offences
LGBT Feature with Helen A Porter, Kat Dixon and Milla van der Have
i told her she had plum cheeks
(poly)grammatical gymnastics
girl wild moon
LGBT Feature with Godelieve de Bree, Casey Garfield and Anna Maughan
buffoon
untitled exhale
To My Child
Sophie Kearing
sometimes i miss
those carefree days
of driving around
listening to crucial conflict…