Tuesday, November 28, 2023

Tuesday poem #556 : Constance Hansen : Motherless at Thirteen



My body begins to curve
into a question mark.





Constance Hansen is Managing Editor of Poetry Northwest. Her poetry and reviews have appeared or are forthcoming in: RHINO, Harvard Review Online, Southern Humanities Review, Cimarron Review, Four Way Review, Northwest Review, Vallum, Superstition Review, and elsewhere. Originally from Seattle, she lives in Paris. You may learn more at www.constancehansen.com.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan


Tuesday, November 21, 2023

Tuesday poem #555 : Lydia Unsworth : Featherlight


One by one, the houses are run down. Link-style maisonettes with their bellies sliced out. While I remain the same, dated as interior design, open to visitors, like a fine example, shackled in glass, of a postwar estate. I was meant to live like this, small, nurtured. Hanging gardens, oval Bonsai dishes, we were two and the same. Can anyone else see these streets, their buried gods, the blood from our shins like shadows in gravel, these graves? Private housing associations bleach our village greens as I photograph this new undoing.






Lydia Unsworth’s latest collections are Arthropod (Death of Workers) and Mortar (Osmosis). Pamphlets include Residue (above/ground), cement, terraces (Red Ceilings), and YIELD (KFS). Poems in places like Ambit, Banshee, Bath Magg, Blackbox Manifold, Oxford Poetry, PERVERSE, and Shearsman. This poem is from These Steady Bulbs, forthcoming in January with above/ground press.

Photo credit: Liza Stokport

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, November 14, 2023

Tuesday poem #554 : Yoyo Comay : Sumpharvest (IX)




just another shining of the sheet

the heat shimmering around


grey sparrows

wink into dust


sound hums with going


snows terror down


choppers blaspheme

the biosphere


the heavywet

mood of the air

sweating with labour

with fervid birthing


you ain’t heard

nothing yet


o wait till you

hear it

playing pattycake

on your eardrum


pounding out its panting rhythm

upon your idiot flesh


the skin barking

and taut

as you embark

the frozen wave of noon


vision like a twitching wing

caught betwixt

the wicked thumbs

of the age


the neck strained

 to breaking

afore it

to eke

a closer peer


the water stiffens

to wax

& the lone wick of sky

smoulders ajar

turning all

adjacent to it


but you split off

to care for the burial grounds


angles dance the air


the leaflight

a passingthrough


but chained I’m sat

in this rock of agues

a pane ashspattered

muttering machinespeak


success’s bright hook

stigmata of the inner cheek

drags it gasping

stringed ass to lip

upon succession’s

cawl of spit


madness is choosing

& not chewing over

this papered lung stuff


cracking the code

unwrites itself,

a defence mechanism,

underwrites its losses


lostlight of lamplost

sloshes limpid at the shore


punchdrunk & stumbling

see the mind at its madness


frantic homesteader

its web upon the water spun

lost in the chase

of a fraying mayhem







Yoyo Comay is a poet and musician from Toronto. He released his first EP of original music Crushed under the name Sufferin Mall in 2022, and his debut poetry collection, States of Emergency, was published with Vehicule Press in 2023. His work has appeared in The Peripheral Review, Commo Mag, Touch the Donkey, Metatron Press, and Small Walker Press. He is also a co-founder of the Toronto Experimental Translation Collective.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan