Gaynor Kane - Ancient Holy water at Struell Wells, Downpatrick.jpg

Content Warning: dark themes

Simon Alderwick – the lost track

Paper is murky. Just when you think

it has settled, something will come along,

kick up dust. It’s like staring into the sun;

doing so whilst holding your head underwater.

It’s walking over your ceiling. Believing

this is the moment, finally the moment

where nothing will ever change.

Scissors are like money. Holding water in your hands.

We the undertow, caught in the flow. Shadows

against a light we stare into. We are counter

to the laws of things. All we know is we will die.

But we don't know what it means. Memory fades

as we move away from what we have

spent our lives contemplating.

Stone is ours to trade for things that we want.

A precious commodity. We will never get back

the game we lost. Only an echo if we sit still

and recall what it looks like, how it feels. We

can almost feel it falling by. Almost taste it,

almost touch it. How sweet to know

we almost knew. It was almost ours.

Simon Alderwick is originally from England but has lived off and on in the Philippines for the past eight years. His poetry has appeared in Magma, Eye Flash, Ink Sweat & Tears, Acid Bath, Broken Spine, Acropolis, Impractical Things and Anthropocene, among others.

Photograph: Ancient Holy water at Struell Wells, Downpatrick by Gaynor Kane

Gaynor Kane lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland, where she is a part-time creative, involved in the local arts scene. She writes poetry and is an amateur artist and photographer. In all her creative activities she is looking to capture moments that might otherwise be missed. Discover more at gaynorkane.com Twitter @gaynorkane Facebook @gaynorkanepoet Instagram @gaynorkanepoet