share


Prism

 

Board trustees tapped heirloom spoons against the graduates’
wet green skulls to get at the yolk. Academics, in chorus,
drilled and blew until we were bright       and
airy,       ready for democracy.       Cheeks inflated like bubonic plague,
foreheads stretched like      drumskin, rainbowed
like wounds, skin  whining, funny helium voices.
I watched the best essayists of my generation float
over the Amazon       rainforest and burning       California
to drink the sun from the sky,    bite and chew and beat its yellow,
so they came back to us     rigged, rainless sierras.
Each time we fell to the ground like flies under an educative glass,
never realising: some skies have a limit, and this is ours.


ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

is a writer and visual artist from Wales and elsewhere. Her work has appeared in bath magg, LUMIN and The Good Journal, among others. Her short story ‘Deep Heart’ won the Guardian 4th Estate BAME Short Story Prize in 2019. She lives and loves in South London.

READ NEXT

poetry

May 2015

Europe

Kirill Medvedev

TR. Keith Gessen

poetry

May 2015

I’m riding the bus with a group of athletes from some provincial town they’re going to a competition in...

poetry

February 2017

In Case of Death

David Nash

poetry

February 2017

1. Cessation of Breath: Is He Breathing?   He’s not breathing, and he cannot go on like this. He...

poetry

October 2015

Two Poems

Robert Herbert McClean

poetry

October 2015

Another Autumn Journal Chaos (AKA Do Not Put This to Music Because You’re How Fish Put Up a Fight)...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required