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

Interview

March 2013

Interview with Billy Childish

José da Silva

Interview

March 2013

Buzzed in through the red metal door and down the stone steps into the bunker that is L-13. The...

feature

February 2011

Old media, new year: China’s CCTV woos the nation’s netizens

Shepherd Laughlin

feature

February 2011

The CCTV New Year’s gala broadcast, known in Mandarin as Chunwan, is probably the most massive media event you’ve...

Art

February 2014

Starting with a Bang: Hannah Höch and The First International Dada Fair

Daniel F. Herrmann

Art

February 2014

A spectre haunted the Lützow-Ufer – the spectre of Dadaism. It hung from the ceiling and peered down from the...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required