As a living soul of the twenty-first century, if you take a glance at the opening lines of Beowulf, the Old English poem, the chances are that you won’t be able to understand it. If anything, you may perhaps recognise its famous first word, hƿæt. This is absolutely fine, I should add; Old English is an old…
We look up to her, I’ll teach you how
it works she says to the ram’s head, the birds eye
her mouth devouring snake heads
create measures to gauge the seriousness
of fragile moments
My name is June; you have to say it like ‘sex’
like it’s a pink toaster
Beneath the light of a bashful demilune,
the water appears quite black, like blood on snow.
Last night they were alive again, flying through the air at break-bone speed, but they didn’t break.
Tiffin clangs like bells,
collapses as it climbs,
tiffin holds okra, paneer,
sambar, and lemon rice.
The goats have come down
from the hills today.
fillets are thawing
for their pan-fried debut.
giddy with the scent
we pipette the peppermint
into the mixture
breathe and /hold
lungs and belly
moon balloon full
It’s not that she wasn’t happy for her sister, far from it. Nadia only wished she could hold on to her for a little longer.