by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
walking alone by the briny rocks a tourist near the sea a stray dog followed me I saw him avoiding a parade of high-shined wide-winged old cars as I crossed the street he must have heard me wishing for his safety his tan fur was ocean-choppy patched with rough...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
Who darkfurred and clawed swims downstream in sleekstreaks, makes bubble lines, splores and splashes? Can nothing overawe otter as she dives and keeks? What brings otter to the shore, back arched, moon on teak? She’s caught an eel to chaw and chewing done, she’s a...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
There’s a place in my garden where I keep all my tools, my tickets to ride where the animals go. One feather in hand and I start to rise, one mud-caked stone and I’m climbing mountains. Somewhere for me to have oodles of fun, somewhere to romp amongst the wild things....
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
Too many bottles, said Dolphin. Too many bags, said Whale. Too many wrappers, said Great White Shark. Too many straws, said Snail. Too many flip-flops, said Turtle. Too many cups, said Seal. Too many brushes, said Manta Ray. Too many tops, said Eel. Too many lighters,...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
I am the one whose bones they haven’t dug, part of an unseen clock keeping the Earth’s deep time, in silence, snug, folded into blankets of rock. I am the one whose booming roar was loud as a forest thick with rooks when the trees rouse them into a storm cloud...
by Rachel Piercey | May 16, 2022 | Issue 2 poems
Who has one foot, but no shoe; is all goo? Who shimmies down round your feet; shines like a sucked sweet? Who leaves a silvery signature trail; is a sort of a snail? Who lays five hundred eggs every year; is the visitor gardeners fear? Who will consume every...
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