share


From: Acheron

 

 

                                            we pass through a series of moral systems –
                            the accumulations of good acts, the weighing
of bad, we note cicatrices of consequence

 

for as many as twenty generations after,
                            we count the number of words spoken and
                                            how many were wrong. The function of moral

 

                                            systems differ according to era: historical
                            relativism rewrites the language of accounting.
Some ghosts may choose to visit facsimiles

 

of dead ancestors and punish them eternally,
                            leaving them raped and blood-bound, but
                                            we must remember this is an unmoderated

 

                                            activity: there are over five billion cases
                            pending appeal; accounting might have
the raw data but they lack the resources

 

to form conclusions. I have been
                            counted, meted; upside down I do not
                                          move the water, the water moves me.

ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

won a Northern Writers Award New Poets Prize in 2019. She won 2nd place in the 2020 Walter Swan Poetry Competition (18-25 category) and 2nd place in the 2020 Hive young writers competition (20-30 category). She has an MA in Poetry and Poetics from the University of York and lives in Leeds.


READ NEXT

fiction

February 2016

The Reactive

Masande Ntshanga

fiction

February 2016

My back cramps on the toilet bowl. I stretch it. Then I take two more painkillers and look down...

Interview

January 2013

Interview with Kalle Lasn

Huw Lemmey

Interview

January 2013

Reinventing a political culture is a difficult task to set oneself; political aesthetics develop alongside political movements, and tracing...

poetry

September 2012

Crossing Over

Eleanor Rees

poetry

September 2012

As he sails the coracle of willow and skins his bird eyes mirror the moon behind cloud. Spring tide...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required