Poetry

All poems © Stephanie Powell | Attic Poet

Excerpt:
In the backstreets the foxes are
synchronised swimmers-
unaware they are in the same
pool, unaware they are doing
the same thing.
Crossing pot-holed Grasmere Avenue,
Poplar Place,
Glastonbury Road.
Light muzzled, shagged amber fur-
thief-footing the pavement.

Excerpt:
Some weeks before we marry-
(in a cold protest of May)
I bend down like a heron
in the cul-de-sac
and find it by a fence.
The porcelain and blue couple,
ill-matched-
the bride is missing her head-
but in perfect condition
(from the neck down).
No cracks in the cast, her skirt-pleats
like razors, cut across her knees-

Excerpt:
My mouth is wide open-
I am riding a bike,
it means I’m happy
when I forget to breathe properly.
The handlebars feel like
mountain ranges beneath my fingers.
I gun down the path by the
river- 
midges shot to
the backside of my throat.

More poetry,

Gypsophila Zine, Issue 3, 2021

Sunday Mornings at the River, Autumn 2021: A Poetry Anthology

Issue launch (YouTube)