Hamartia

His mother holds the golden vaseThat holds the bones of her only sonThat hold the memory of AchillesThat holds an eternal question When she took her infant to the river StyxAnd dipped her child in the waters of deathAnd won him this underworldly armourAnd slept easier knowing he was protected What if instead she had …

Holding our breaths

A poem for election day Is this howThe Roman charioteersFelt when straddling two horses?Straining towards separate pathsDancing on the edge ofDisaster At leastThe Romans heldThe reins in their own two handsWe steer while yoked to madnessOn that at least weCan agree We hoverOn the future’sPrecipice HoldingOurBreaths Photo by Anastasiia Krutota on Unsplash

Teatime

The tragedy thatA full fridgeIs cheaper to runThan an empty one. So the columnistAdvises placingBowls of waterOn bare shelves. Now in homesAcross the countryHungry childrenWill open the door – Only to be met withTheir own reflections. Note: This was inspired by an article in The Guardian. I understand the necessary practicality of the advice, but …

Sky and Soil

flying and fallingthe differencebetweenlooking aheadto open airandan anxious gazeat the ground Note: This was inspired by a bird flying outside my window. I played with different versions of this poem. Initially, there was more structure – firmer sentences, more words, capitalisation, punctuation, but it felt airier stripping that out. I tried to tease out exactly …

Questions

We commiserate so oftenAbout all the questionsOur children askThe constant chorusOf WHY, WHY, WHY? But maybe we shouldThink more about theQuestions they don’t ask. The things they knowAlready are too secretOr too shamefulTo be spoken aloud, The places they pick upOn our uneasy shifting,The averted gaze,The quick distraction; Or worse – the pregnant Pause before …