Now that the vulnerable are encased
In conservatories or kitchen cupboards
The circle on the green, the football pitch,
Divided by a garden fence, grows
Until we hum a consensus that
Manslaughter is fine as long as there's
No push of the knife
As long as we don't know we've done it
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Published by alyssiaonline
Alyssia MacAlister is a writer, editor, artist and mother, who lives with her partner in Brighton. On both page and stage, Alyssia is concerned with exploring narratives with a poetic frame, finding the beautiful in the strange. In writing she can find unspoken traumas and the meanings behind silences. Wide-ranging past interests include virtual reality and the female body, spiders and grief. Alyssia’s specialty is prose poetry, but she often works in found poetry and experiments with more traditional verse. In addition, Alyssia writes lucid fiction and essays, while also creating artwork mostly in pencil. She also has a scalpel eye for editing any kind of poetry or prose and can produce poetry workshops.
View all posts by alyssiaonline