Presence 74

  the crow’s shadow
blacker than the bird

Andrew Shimield

never before
never again
this shooting star

Ram Chandran

milky quartz
in the boulder’s veins
mountains and rivers

Jenny Ward Angyal

at dawn
first in the long line
a homeless man
asleep in the doorway
of the ticket office

George Swede 

as a pearl
in the sea of here
for a while I forget
the fear of being unknown

Richa Sharma

last orders

I have, of late, been thinking of all the places that we didn’t see together; of things I wish you’d lived to see. There are, of course, mountains, sprinkled with little lakes, so clear you’d have laughed as minnows swam freely through your body’s reflection. There are coastal paths; forest walks; curlews in flight; a dolphin chaperoning our boat; a pure green field of playful lambs. And there are also tall-ceilinged rooms in stately homes, so stuffed with bone china and twist-stemmed glass that you’d have stopped in your tracks and shaken your head as you took it all in. I can see that look on your face quite clearly.

half moon
my hand-pulled pint just the way
you’d have liked it

— Alan Peat