Cloudmother by Siobhan Harvey

When a child starts school, so too the
parents:

this is a truth Cloudmother can�t
escape.



Here are others � when a teacher favours
a child,

so too the parents; when a classmate
befriends a child,



so too the parents; when a label owns a child,

so too the parents. The mother most of
all.



The handwriting lessons that failed to
prepare her for life;

the teachers who saw careers in

'Chemotherapy' by Mary McCallum and 'In the corner of my mind, a boy' by Frankie McMillan

Chemotherapy by Mary McCallum



who knew she was
there

hidden
inside that thing that turns

her girl upside
down and inside out

(poison, really, a
small inefficient

killing field) let
loose in a body still

young enough to
smell of milk

in the morning, one
the mother must

return to sit
beside and stand over

to stroke the soft
cheek, catch the soft

vomit, be steel to
all that

Lucifer In Las Vegas by Joanna Preston

tortoise: from the Greek, tartarchos; �god of the underworld�

i. The Fall


As I fell, I burned

through shame and grief

and disbelief and love �

words that trail like smoke,

like broken wings.

Only rage was left �

its silken tongue, its

crystal shell. I fell

through night and time

into the morning

of this world, and

kept on falling.

Once, I lived

by passion�s flame,

but I learned

This is Where a Post Title Goes. I'd Forgotten.

So, I'd be lying if I said it was planned, but it turns out a wedding & honeymoon is a pretty undeniable reason to go offline for six weeks. A few lessons learned: 

-The internet is not standing still. At times, it can feel like a morass o' molasses. But your social media formats (for me, it's Twitter and Facebook) are constantly evolving in terms of both posting formats and algorithms for display. All bellyaching aside, these changes are rarely noticeable when you're engaged on a daily basis. But it's striking when you step out of the slipstream, then step back in. My feeds became more democratized, less self-segregated, which was both better and occasionally annoying. 

-No one will guilt trip you because you disappeared. We were happy to have you there, we are happy to have you back. "Lost time" is negligible. 'Nuff said. 

-Do not let the internet drive your work when you're freelancing. In the past few years, I recall several times when I sunk days into writing essays sparked by online discussion...then promptly pitched the finished produce to a print venue. Nope. You're going to end up with the wrong tone, the wrong level of depth, the wrong sense of timeliness. I'm not saying you should avoid online publishing--there are great venues--but make sure what you have to say isn't something with a 24-hour shelf life. 

-The internet is a good thing. My writing community is larger because of the web; I have missed updates from far-away friends and poets. However, I can get everything done that I need to get done as a full-time writer in 2-3 hours a day online, through browsing and linking and commenting. Just gotta develop the discipline to stop there. 

More soon. Just thought I'd post while I still had a trace of my Maui tan. If you're going to be in Tampa later this June, or in Mississippi come August 1-2, come out and visit.

Bad Housekeeping by Emma Neale

The cat does a
fine patriarchal stalk

his paws all
rosebuds and thorns,

eyes a
tender-censorious almost-blue

as he plays
pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake

with the living
room rug

which bubbles
and bumps

like bread
dough baking

until I lift
its edge

to see a small,
dark, anguished mouse

race the thread
of its tail up and down

like a
seamstress frantic to say least and mend soonest

the deep

Quail Flat, 1960 by Kerry Popplewell

for Brian

Five of us slept that night on the stone floor
of an old cob hut, close by the Clarence River �
our ears ringing still from the silence
of high screes, our eyes still burning
from hot snow, the bright shimmer of bugloss
and briar rose on the parched valley flats.

When I woke, cold, in that monochrome time
before colour seeps in, I saw you sprawled
quite motionless, eyes closed.