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I learnt to be the needle
to his record, knife to his cutting board,
cook to his broth. Drawn to the bulb
of his scalp, I curled around his feet
like parentheses and listened to stories
that might glaze bone.
– Frankenstein’s Dog by D A Angelo. Read the full poem.

In late winter I sowed so many seeds,
spending time in a blindly hopeful gamble:
covered them in dirt knowing nothing
would appear at all for weeks, if ever.
– Seeds by Ted Gooda. Read the full poem.

Mary Anne Smith Sellen

Results of the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (April 2021) judged by Mary Anne Smith Sellen have been announced here. Subscribe to our free newsletter here.

Catherine Edmunds

Sackbuts and Ashes

Too tired to go to bed or stay awake,
my brain teems with crippled tadpoles.
I have a need to die young and tragic
but have left it too late. I need a shave…

Read the full poem by Catherine Edmunds here.