Content Warning: bones, dark themes
Lucy Holme – Catastrophising
After Olav H. Hauge
Strip meat from bone
edges rendered for broth.
White onion sharp — my words last we met,
brings fresh saltwater.
It was I who broke the pact
soak the carcass in apple cider vinegar & season well
skimmed joy from that place,
engulfed by yellow doubt.
How it feels to remember your moon face,
quiet, arcane —
roughly chop parsnip, celery, collard greens
our two fingers curled around the wishbone.
It seems like a miracle now.
Lucy Holme lives in Cork, Ireland raising three young children. Recent poems feature in The Liminal Review, Púca Literary Journal and Re-Side and she has poetry forthcoming in The Munster Literature Centre's journal, Southword, Marble Poetry and Poetry Bus. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at UCC in September and her debut chapbook which was shortlisted for The Patrick Kavanagh Award will be published by Broken Sleep Books in August 2022.
Photograph: Waning Gibbous by James Harris
James Harris isn't a photographer; he's a walker who takes photos, usually at stupid o’clock in the morning. Instead of travelling afar, he walks the streets, pathways, parks and beaches of his native Kent, UK, to capture the beauty that sometimes lies just outside the vision of those who don’t have a camera ready in their hands. When he’s not walking, he’s waging battles against computers which he will never win, but at least he gets paid for it.