Hilda Horsley’s Alarm Clock
“At eight o’clock in the morning a piece/ of shrapnel burrowed its tick into the small/ intestine, like clockwork…” Poem of the Week (May 6), by Emily Webb.
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For La Llorona
“come when the rains/ will not stain your/ lily-white shroud// where the sun/ will not freeze/ your blood…” Weekend poem, by David Ishaya Osu.
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Whatever the Wounds, Whatever the Damage
“At the factory her job is to attach buttons to shirts, pants and dresses all day long. Then, very late at night, in the darkness, she returns and reenters her cave.” Story of the Week (May 2), by Shahaduzzaman. Translated from Bengali by Shabnam Nadiya.
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Raptures
“‘Conies’, whispers Wisdom Smith, ‘require calm,/ dawn craft and a down-wind’…” Poem of the Week, from the Wenlock Festival. By David Morley.
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Thunder, Lightning etc.
“Our lightning strikes would laser half the town…/ A childhood, if you’re lucky, should be this.” Weekend poem from the Wenlock Festival, by Luke Wright.
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TÄrÄ at the Prom
“There were only skeletons at the prom but/ TÄrÄ was not afraid…” Poem of the Week (April 22), by Ottilie Mulzet.
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An Old Soul Angles Inside Itself
“Waits for a tug at the bait:/ a book with blank pages strung/ from the hook of a question mark.” Weekend poem, by Cortney Lamar Charleston.
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Happy
“Deborah Rancoff was never beautiful, but her drowned body was.” Story of the Week (April 18), by Madeleine Lee.
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Night Life
“Each day is not like this: Her edges showed sharp/ as diamonds one Tuesday before Wednesday dark/ pulled her from rain and dropped her in a car.” Poem of the Week (April 15), by Mark J. Mitchell.
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‘As though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul’
“Then there were stars and he tried to breathe in the pulse of their light./ The flickering of stars is like the heartbeat before death.” Weekend poem, by Clarissa Aykroyd.
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