by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
Me Pharaoh ant Queen of Spain Fritillary caterpillar Golden Silk Orb Weaver spider Umbrella cockatoo Ring-tailed lemur Emerald tree boa Leopard slug But Leopard slug – best you go last S.J. Perillo is a poet and botanist. S.J. lives and works in...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
Sometimes, when I’m feeling sad, I like to think about Honey. You know how it is, when everyone else seems to have lots of friends and you’re standing on your own in the playground chatting quietly with a goalpost, and then your mum picks you up and asks how was...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
after The Children of Lir, an Irish myth I was turned into a swan yesterday; it still stuns me, still stings. But my stepmother let me keep my voice, so I can sing. Sad songs like this, well wouldn’t you? Nine Hundred Years with nothing more to do than swim in...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
The library cat climbs, balancing on pauses quieter than commas, slinking inkily as print. Her name is missing from the catalogue. To look her up, look up between the spines: two olivine eyes. Her insubordinate claws draw in the library’s dusty margins. She twines...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
Fish use theirs for forward motion: swishing, swooshing through the ocean. Monkeys swing and swoop through trees, long, strong tails make this a breeze. Squirrels use theirs as a shade: sun-umbrella? Ready-made! Flitter, flutter, birds take flight, feathered tails...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
Can you ride a zebra? You may think yes of course, because they are a stripier, smaller kind of horse, but they are also grumpier, with a bite to give you pause, and certainly kick thumpier, they’ll break a lion’s jaws, so I really wouldn’t ride them: train a zonkey...
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