Bunsen burners click on, throats closed for a safe flame. The room tepefies—pipettes veiled in thin fog. Litmus paper drops like sleeves on a dress. Every girl measures: reds, blues, acid, acid, base. Some boys huddle around the fire, burn the edge of our assignment, laugh at how an eraser cooks in the blaze. I’m…
The bones of a daytime moon then the shock of them across it: using their arms like wings, wheeling above Middleton Moor now as one body, now as many. They fly in wax jackets and blue check shirts, plaid jumpers and high vis, magpie-black leather. Sometimes you might catch a bracelet falling like a feather,…
original Gaelic poem with English translation by the author mo chasan a’ leughadh leabhar-cumha ruadh an fhoghair my feet reading the russet elegy-book of autumn eòlas nan dùil sgrìobhte ann an làmh rèimeil nan tùs ag innse dhomh gu’n d’fhiach an sgeul ath-aithris, nach eil anns an lobhadh ach bruadar knowledge of hopes written in…
original Irish poem with English translation by Gillian Clarke ar ôl “Bird Watching” R. S. Thomas after “Bird Watching” by R. S. Thomas A daeth taith fawr ddwsinau o ddrudwns i ben. It’s long journey’s end for a murmuration of starlings. Nid sbienddrych o bell yn gorwelio eu plu sy. Ond heddiw seicdreiddwyr eu…
original Irish poem with English translation by the author faiteadh súile feithide i bhforaois fearthainne i mBorneó the blink of an insect’s eye in the rain forest of Borneo chuir gála gaoithe ag réabadh na tíre, ag pleancadh scioból tuí set gale force winds ripping the country, battering tin sheds is monarchan iata, scoileanna réamhdhéanta…
In the middle of my life I had the most marvelous piece of luck I entered a hotel and among golfers pregnant with beautiful minor worries watched the cheerleaders gallop as James Wright said terribly against each other’s bodies but really it was not except for their cries of happiness bouncing off the mountains surrounding…
after Joy Harjo The verb has a long history of violence: to take is to grab, seize or capture, esp. by force; note its hard k set against the long vowel, a sign of intent, this cave of sound. He took her by the throat and shook her is one in a proliferation of…
Oak branches shuffling slow amends in the sorry wind, as if trying to push A large gift into your arms. Step back into your dusty boots, love, left & Right then, creased like fruits gone to rot. Filling up an outline of myself, Is all. You’re the reason here they call a mouth a trap….
it starts in rage not anger or rancor or a bitch cornered whose fear-fuelled snarl turns fit nor the politesse of some pale Ramon screaming no more of a jonesing more veins stretched as pig gut over sphincter mince more a thumbnail that breaks the skin to pull a strip or length of rind to…
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