Three pieces by Matthew Howard


I saw the last-gasped


written by a shower
of little quills
cooling at the tips.

The tin-god voice
on the radio
sang along with my own,
numb and as low as tyres.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~


An eyelash pressed in a book
catches my breath with the clinch
of its perfect line break.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~


The boyish bridegroom’s button-hole red as his razor-burned cheeks; no top hat, no length in his tales.

• Matthew Howard works in the insurance industry in Norwich and, along with providing IS&T with some much appreciated book reviews, is also reading for an MA in creative writing at Manchester Metropolitan University.

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