Guardian of The Edge

By Agnes Marton

Winging out jetskinned,

melting off the steel.

Harsh, naked speed
upwards, then saundering.

Everywhere your arms.

Insomniac minutes
to loot.

Here, cherish,
I paint words for you
to frame.

Guardian of the Edge,
I shush pain and fear
from your dreams.

shadowless harbour.

Agnes Marton is a hungarian-born poet, editor, linguist, translator. Regularly cooperates with visual artists. Her book: ‘Sculpture/poésie’.


Budget Family Room

By Helen Addy

TV veiled with a white towel;
nightlight of soft blur,
dancing Impressionism.

Towel rail disconnected
for your safety;
parcel tape licking bare wires.

Fist sized holes in the plaster;
kids’ questions answered
with giant mice.

Keycard intruders at 1am;
adrenalin misfired into a family
given the wrong room.

Loose guttering outside
turning night rain into crackling fireworks;
morning sun into slices of light.

Helen Addy, 33, is from Forres and has been previously published in BUGGED, Pushing Out the Boat, SOUTH and Carillon.


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