Grant Guy

 

 

 

The Waitress Brought Him the Menu

his wife threw him out
told him he was not handsome
told him he was not romantic
told him he did not earn enough
told him he was a bore in bed

pulling the pickup out of the driveway
like a thunder clap over the Prairies
loneliness wrapped him up in a sad embrace
embraced what little remained human in him

he drove numb

he pulled his vintage ford v8 into a truck stop lot
he sat at the counter   3 stools b/w him three burly truckers
they reeked of cigarettes & diesel & sweat

the waitress brought him a menu
her eyes sd welcome    her heart was somewhere else
coffee   she asked     yes     he sd
he paused   his eyes lingered on the midnight angel
more than he should have      he turned to the menu

the truckers returned to their rigs
a purolator  driver sat at a booth by a window
jane   a coffee & hot beef sandwich    he sd with a wave

she returned to him    asked    are you ready to order
he tripped over his tongue     uhhhh     & blurted out   blt
his eyes followed her   she moved like a dancer

when she brought him his blt his fingers graced hers    good gracious

he was in love for at least the next 30 minutes

he ate    finished the last of his coffee with one gulp    paid the bill
before he stepped outside into the cloudless night
he turned to look at her one last time
she was too busy to look up at him    he thought     a hapless hope

she handed a menu to the 16 year old   trying to sober up

he stepped into the black night
loneliness kissed him on the lips
I love you    it sd

 

 

 

Grant Guy is a Canadian poet, writer and playwright. He has over one hundred poems and short stories published in internationally and five books . His plays include an adaptation of Paradise Lost and the Grand Inquisitor. He is the recipient of many grants and awards.

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S.A. Leavesley

 

S.A. Leavesley is a prize-winning poet, fiction writer and journalist. Latest poetry collections include How to Grow Matches (Against The Grain Press, 2018) and plenty-fish (Nine Arches Press, 2015). Her unpublished ‘This < > Room’ was longlisted in the New Welsh Writing Awards 2018. She also runs V. Press poetry and flash fiction imprint. Websites: http://www.sarah-james.co.uk and http://vpresspoetry.blogspot. co.uk/.

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Rachel Bower

 

 

 

How to Speak of Grief

I break it to her gently. He was old, I say,
he had a good life, he was ready.

She stares back at me, waiting for more.
He won’t wake up again.

She drops her sandwich and howls.
Wracked with sobs, her body crumples,

small hands cling round my neck
as if I too might disappear,

wet face buried in my coat.
But I don’t want him to sleep forever.

I know, I weep, stroking her hair, I know.
Passing shoppers glance at the bench

where we cry for the city farm, for the field
that now stands empty, our apples left to rot.

 

 

 

 

Rachel Bower is the author of Moon Milk (Valley Press, 2018) and Epistolarity and World Literature (Palgrave Macmillan, 2017). She co-edited Verse Matters with Helen Mort. Her poems have been published in Stand MagazineThe Interpreter’s House and Frontier, and they have won several prizes.  Blog: https://rachelbowerwrites.wordpress.com

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Maryam Gatawa

 

 

 
…And tell the stars

Then tell the stars
To take their leave too
For within our breasts
Shines the inward light
To sail us through
These fields of darkness

Why wait for the gardens to
Bear you sweet roses
Or rent the cloaks of your hope
To greedy mighty whales

Go forth with your hoe
And till the fertile land
Plant upon its face
Sweet corns and grapes
And  when the winter knocks in
Tell her to stay
You have enough grains in your home.
 

 

 
 
Maryam Gatawa is a poet from northern Nigeria. Her works of poetry have been published in reputable journals inside Africa and overseas. She can be reached through facebook at ‘Maryam Gatawa’ and twitter @meegat12.

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Jeri Onitskansky

 

 

 

Home Grown Poem

Bo’s trampled the bleeding hearts
and not for purely metaphorical reasons.

Squashed and pink in a mulch
of pig manure, passion’s illuminated

by mango martinis disguised
as garden lighting. Among bluebells,

a fern unfurls like a huddle
of Martians. Oh love,

love, what comes apart like
your white lies / white lilies?

 

 

 

 

Jeri Onitskansky is an American-born Jungian analyst and poet who lives and works in High Barnet. Her pamphlet Call them Juneberries was an IOTA shot winner and was published by Templar Poetry in 2015.

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Beth McDonough

 

 

 

Grassy Beach evening

 

Stalk between rails and the Tay
where light stakes out
any primped queen’s lace –
which might be jumped-up hedge parsley.
Touch columbine in scattered couch,
rip yellow vetch, unbutton tansies.
You’ll only hear high tide’s undercut
slap at concrete, slurp up steps.
Smell dog roses by the end of whins.
Can you remember feral apples
snapped round corners?
Your familiar frames the half-dark
slinks into almost possible.

 

 

 

 

Beth McDonough’s poetry appears in Agenda, Causeway, Interpreter’s Houseand elsewhere; she reviews in DURA. Handfast (2016, with Ruth Aylett) explores family experiences – Aylett’s of dementia. and McDonough’s of autism. She was recently Writer in Residence at Dundee Contemporary Arts.

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