You’ve changed, where’s the pink ha-ha? Those words linger like a bad smell as we stew like sardines, too few people for a party. I’m wearing something black and too tight and it’s a stinger, your words slice me like the butter knife we use to chop up cake on the coffee-stained counter. Crumbs coat everything, stick to the bottom of plastic cups we’d both … Continue reading Pinky
Intelligent, Independent, Innovative,
Will make your life easier. Less
Faster day-to-day interactions
– Update now? –
I remember how it had once tasted;
The sweet air
The stale fumes
The incomprehensible fly to the flame,
Wondering how he, too, fell for the light. Continue reading “Where These Words Came From”
Holly Hopkins is an award winning poet, having won the Poetry Business Pamphlet Competition for her debut collection, Soon Every House will have One, as well as the Eric Gregory Award, and the Poetry Book Society Pamphlet Choice amongst others.
two paints in the pack:
cadmium yellow and
the yellow’s on my nails –
you like that one.
you hold my hand out and inspect it
mostly shine, with the occasional chip.
you don’t seem to notice the chip,
or, at least, it doesn’t bother you;
I think of those who sat here before me,
Drinking overpriced tea in an overpriced seat;
Trying not to feel miffed at £2.20 for a teabag and hot water,
But this frivolous life is one that is growing on me,
The art of not caring becomes all too natural
As I sit by the door and think about leaving
But not leaving.
Continue reading “Costa”
Death is sleeping
beneath the surface of the water.
She is alive with insects,
moss flowering over her wings.
Little black bat, submerged in formaldehyde,
leather-skinned old woman–
don’t wake just yet. Continue reading “November”
I woke the night it finally rained
With a desire to take myself outside and lie down
Among all the broken spines of estranged grass
Baked dry by this new breed of summer sun Continue reading “4AM Rain”
For the village of strong women that raised me. I am indebted, always.
I will always need another body to follow through the fog
another voice to cut through the darkness
a thousand more tongues to set alight when our syllables
more fingernails to watch collect ink and stone as they claw their way home Continue reading “A Song for Many Mothers”
I want to shake her
when she surfaces, coughing,
my whole body shakes
when she dives again
exhaling yes like they will give her breath
I say no as if I could slow her fall. Continue reading “Plenty More Fish in the Sea”