Wedged between sky and river The birch, plaiting scarred spines, joins Ochre leaves to Cirrus clouds. In the wedge of bed and window Your wounded limbs endure A throbbing rhythm to misting dew Autumn wraps a sultry cage Of alizarin crimson. She entwines the rising bone To breach the slough of heaven Branches thunder and… Continue Reading ‘Encroachment’, by Mary Marie Dixon
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Lie in the car, stiff as a bell’s tongue, and just as mute. Pain in aspiration stage – still hoping I’ll hurl myself against walls, eager to chime. After a blurry episode give looking another go. Burgess Park is not itself right now: tiny, lifeless, the green of grass and foliage moulded in the same… Continue Reading ‘Chime’, by Marion Michell
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In Lithuanian, runoti means both “to cut (with a knife)” and “to speak”. Hail: Hagalaz Pain, loss, suffering, hardship, sickness, crisis. Spirit-breaker Faith-Taker Misery-Maker Joy-Stealer Dream-Breaker Shadow-Hound. Thought-Waker Friend-Fooler … Continue Reading ‘Hagalaz’, by Ruth V. Chalkley
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Today I was issued with hand splints. Carapaced; oddly reassuring, oddly restricting; Even in their disposition. I am that crab. Their bindings have an onomatopoeia: irascible. by Ruth Victoria Chalkley Additional poems hosted on other websites: Tanzkarte NHS; Carrier Pigeon for Science U.K.
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(after a poem by Jane Kenyon) The sick mother stayed in the car During swimming, music, dance. Not yet fifty, She had learned the many ways The able-bodied become just bodies. Afternoon always came too quick With its carpools and constant motion. She was still the secretary Of details and schedules. Still indispensable. So in… Continue Reading ‘The Sick Mother’, by Amy Wray Irish
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I’m poeming this poem from a forest-boreal transition zone anticipating intense public reaction to my poem against the bony mets that XXXX up my posture & infiltrate our nat’l backbone its prostate biopsy analogy lost/inapparent in the sagamore gloam this spine unresponsive to the pre-patent analog that is my poem by Maureen Miller doctorwritermaureenmiller.tumblr.com [This… Continue Reading ‘Focal Signal Intensity Enhancements’, by Maureen Miller
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what for is there beauty what for is there pain what for is there beauty if not for Solely me for anything with beauty is strictly what I see by socks
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‘This is my best exorcist impression,’ I tell you with a grimacing grin. I tell you it’s a horror movie to make you laugh. So that you can laugh at the girl controlled by demons. As her head turns full circle on her neck. As her smile screams with silent blasphemy. Because if you don’t… Continue Reading ‘The exorcism of Spasmodic Torticollis’, by Holly Hirst
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