fog patches: slow
the sign tells us nothing:
fog patches are idiots
© Rachel Green November 2026
Luton Airport
I am stopped and searched
for something odd
packed in my cabin bag
but the guard's face lights up:
"I haven't seen one of those
since my mother passed away"
His delight is not at the vibrator
But at my antique mincer.
© Rachel Green November 2026
screwed to the tree
a printed yellow sign
'no bill posting'
© Rachel Green October 2026
shrouded figures
on a perpetually darkened street
while a white horse moves past
on impossibly long legs.
The drudgery of walking
taking every left turn
but the scenery never changes
© Rachel Green October 2026
wheelbarrows
gathered among the dead
rust in peace
© Rachel Green October 2026
Mum would be a Young Woman to me
My mother did the dishes at night;
wiped down the counter,
washed the Aga's hot enamel,
emptied the teapot on the hydrangea outside
(she swore it kept it pink)
dried the plates and put them away.
She was the last to bed
and the first to rise in the morning.
I am first to rise in the morning
but never the last to bed.
If I do the dishes at night
there's a fresh sinkful in the morning
so now my morning is to feed the dogs
then do the dishes while they eat.
© Rachel Green October 2026
a video
of me trying to Hula
man, I was big.
© Rachel Green October 2026
Michelle Obama made me Cry
It's just a YouTube;
a compilation of her wit and humour;
the way she roasts her husband on live TV
and the amazing charity work she does.
She surprises people in real life
and is always greeted with joy
and no matter what her opponents think
she treats them with respect
even the incoming rapist
and his Russian mail-order bride.
I wish I had such grace
and such sublime humility.
I wish she'd run for President.
© Rachel Green October 2026
builder's van
displays a disabled badge
double-take
© Rachel Green October 2026
Soup of the Evening
Mum put marbles of mashed potato
as bergs in the bowl-seas of soup;
it strikes as odd behaviour now
but it helped to fill us up
when money was tight
and potatoes were in the garden, free.
The vats of soup on the Aga
simmered for hours, cooled, frozen
served up in the depths of winter
as a memory of the summer sun.
© Rachel Green October 2026
autumnal morning
flying past earth-toned trees
seagulls
© Rachel Green October 2026
Gift of the Street
frame required
but I worry about the cost
Providence intervenes
on the road home from town
someone has left out a frame.
Too big for my needs
but I have a mitre block
and a sharp tenon saw
© Rachel Green October 2026
fuckity bollox
went to buy a meat pie
fucked the car up
© Rachel Green October 2026
One Hundred Tiny Joys
one at a time
numbered watercolours
destined each to be given away
fly, my darlings, fly
you have brought me so much joy to make
now spread my joy,
my love,
to others
© Rachel Green October 2026
