Thistles
A silent but persistent tapping
at the door of her soul,
guilt gathering momentum
until shame beat at her lips
desperate to leave.
Her dumb mouth opened
like a beak, her body shook
with a will to release but
the words clung to her throat.
Tell me, destroy the power
of its grip on your heart.
Take the salt from your eyes
to your voice, let it wither and die.
She spat it out with a gust
of emotion and it was
nothing; a thorn of experience
disempowered the moment
it was given voice.
I did it by the book and
she was absolved, yet
I keep my thistles imprisoned,
ready for inspection
but safe from exposure.
Page(s) 14
magazine list
- Features
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- 14
- Acumen
- Agenda
- Ambit
- Angel Exhaust
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- Atlas
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- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
- Coffee House, The
- Dream Catcher
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- Erbacce
- Fabric
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- French Literary Review, The
- Frogmore Papers, The
- Global Tapestry
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- Interpreter's House, The
- Iota
- Journal, The
- Lamport Court
- London Magazine, The
- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
- Moodswing
- Neon Highway
- New Welsh Review
- North, The
- Oasis
- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
- Oxford Poetry
- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
- Poetry Review, The
- Poetry Salzburg Review
- Poetry Scotland
- Poetry Wales
- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
- Quarto
- Rain Dog
- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The