Issue 95 / Dec18/Jan19

ARTISTIC
LICENCE
As part of our continuing series focusing on the region’s
wordsmiths, we’ve curated a selection of work from some
regulars on the city’s poetry scene.
Ellis Williams
Earth Turning
earth turning
i wish i could have walked across your homeland split
orange and burning
i wish you could have walked across mine split grey and
hurting
but instead
we meet under a spyglass and now the earth is turning
i wish you could have seen what i have saturday nights in
the rain a damp liverpool pavement waiting for something
anything to take away from a desperation
i wish i could have seen what you have where the sky goes
on forever and you walk on the air a cold wind driven mad
through your hair
but now we are here together in white noise
one million flashbulbs burned into our eyes
walk with me put your ear to the floor
and if you’re lucky
you will hear the earth turning
Tammy Reynolds
Last Night
I took a pair of scissors from my desk and got into bed.
I rested the blade on my little finger and clamped down
on the knuckle. Snipping through the skin was easy,
it cut through like raw chicken, then crack.
The stubborn bone gave way under pressure.
Four fingers later, I had to switch hands,
Zena Davine
STRANGE WAYS TO DIE
I once saw a boy swallow a sex toy,
And rush off to a+e,
They said you’re shit out of luck,
Your insides are fucked,
That’s why you don’t eat dildos for tea
I once saw a man get his foot stuck in a van,
Pullin’ him into oncoming traffic,
He flew through the sky,
As golfers screamed nine,
And died of altitude sickness
I once saw a girl swallow a hundred pearls,
And turn into a human bean bag,
A whale thought she was a cushion,
probably cashmere or Russian,
And squashed that poor little nag
I once saw a punk get far too drunk,
An’ try to make out with a moose,
Stinkin’ of ale, he went kinda pale,
When the moose’s husband let loose
I once saw an emo punch Danny DeVito,
Start throwin’ fists in a brawl,
They rolled over a cliff,
As the little fella slipped,
Now all that’s left is his jaw
Listen kids, grown ups and nits,
There’s a trillion and one ways to die,
It’s a not matter of how,
It’s a matter of why,
Bonus points if you’re thrown into the sky
I eased the handles onto my red stumps;
blood makes everything slippery.
The skin of my thumb caught on the blades,
and splintered bone dropped onto the covers.
I couldn’t do the same to my right hand,
how else would I have written this?
I let go of the scissors, turned off the light,
and kicked up the wet quilt.
My fingertips fell to the floor,
and I went to sleep.
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