Content Warning: abuse, death
Jenny Mitchell – Three Poems
Blessed Fount of Blood
Grandmother dressed in stains, works a blighted crop,
graves planted in the yard, dank shack shadowing the lost:
four of a dozen young buried in the dirt by a lack
of food, names held in her throat, recalled in high-pitched
screams. At night, her husband and five sons get drunk,
singing to the trees – Blessed fount of blood.
She shouts at them – God hears and will strike down!
Other words gleaned at church, Jesus standing close,
whispering she shall prevail until the night a son
picks up a stone, aims it at her feet as he’s seen
his father do many times. But the weapon flies too quick,
meeting with her throat – Blessed fount of blood.
step-father and the word
mother says he is my boyfriend. when he first arrives. i’m six. in a heidi dress. waving.
as he goes to work. laughing to return. arms wide. with a tin of sweets. all mine. light blinking from the tv screen. i curl close to his legs. as he lies. on the sofa. now a boat. i sail
to my own life. until his toes begin to walk. across my skin. pinching. as i stare up at
his eyes. filled with blood. his smile says i am trapped. when he clamps hard. i fight
against the weight. his legs are heavy chains. until i jump. out of the boat. call my mother close. do not know the words. point instead. say he has to leave. she smiles in the same way as him. eyes made out of blood. says i’m terrible. turns her back. walks away. and
with all the harm he does. in the years to come. belt across the skin. face down in candlewick. that word scars the most.
Man of Peace
Some poems make my skin crawl as they come,
ones about the slaves – slow suicide in fields,
eating dirt, forced to work – seven years before
the crop sweetening our tea turns into their grave.
Worst of all are poems with my mother standing
firm, belt raised like a whip, my brother beaten
as a boy till fits attack his frame. At twenty years
of age, he falls asleep one night, never to wake up.
Jenny Mitchell has three poetry collections Her Lost Language, Map of a Plantation, which is on the syllabus at Manchester Metropolitan University, and Resurrection of a Black Man, which contains three prize-winning poems and was featured on the US podcast Poetry Unbound. She’s won numerous awards, including the Gregory O’Donohue Prize 2022, and has performed at the Houses of Parliament. She’s currently Poet-in-Residence at Sussex University.
Photograph: fallen leaves by Lisa Wright
Lisa Wright is a freelance writer, book reviewer, and amateur photographer. Her work has been featured in Peatsmoke Journal, mixed mag, unstamatic, Lavender Bones, Atlantic Northeast, and Cool Beans Lit, among others. In her spare time, she enjoys baseball (go Phils!), U.K. dramas, mysteries, and panel shows, cooking, baking, and exploring the great outdoors with her partner, John.