share


My Mother’s Hands

shed coral scales

& sunrise. In England, the inside

 

is ashen. She touches tangerine flowers,

when a woman

 

exiting her home in Camberwell cries,

go back to where you come from, as if

 

she carries still the scent

of dragon-fruit. I swallow

 

cherry stones. I flower

your abandoned garden

 

in my belly, to carry in me the whispers

of all your lost colours. I dream

 

in shades of lilac. Sometimes

my tummy hurts.


ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

grew up between Oxford and Mexico City, with stints spent in France and Italy, and began writing poetry while living in Boston, Massachusetts. Her poems have been published in British, American and Canadian journals, including Blackbox Manifold, Colorado Review, The Missouri Review and Willow Springs, and are recently anthologised in Un Nuevo Sol: British Latinx Writers (flipped eye, 2019). 



READ NEXT

feature

September 2016

The Rights Of Nerves

Masha Tupitsyn

feature

September 2016

‘I transform “Work” in its analytic meaning (the Work of Mourning, the Dream-Work) into the real “Work” — of...

feature

Issue No. 1

In Somaliland

feature

Issue No. 1

On a traffic island in the middle of Somaliland’s capital city, Hargeisa, is the rusting shell of fighter jet...

Art

November 2012

7 1/2 mile hike to Mohonk Lake via Duck Pond

Patricia Niven

JA Murrin

Art

November 2012

Notes on a Walk Never Taken by JA Murrin   As a writer I like to visit the places...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required