long life milk
will still turn to liquid cheese
after two years
© Rachel Green April 2026
F(re)ecycle II
All my piercing jewellery
collected over thirty years
one box full
All the money I spent
collected in one small box
and now useless to me.
Bead rings, barbells, tongue studs;
a huge amount of stretching cones
and flesh tunnel plugs.
I'd rather do jiu-jitsu.
© Rachel Green April 2026
rudbeckia
only two ninety-nine each
none left
© Rachel Green April 2026
F(re)ecycle
my dad used perlite;
swore it kept his seedlings moist
if he was late with watering;
added it to pots and kept his fuchsias happy
wanted it added to his grave
though we weren't allowed.
I've kept this bag for years
but I've stopped gardening now
so does anyone want it
or should I just bin?
© Rachel Green April 2026
hospital sign
"Need help with Eyesight?"
the rest is in Latin
© Rachel Green April 2026
exercise class
followed by advanced jiu-jitsu
where we add the caveat
"If they're untrained you can..."
because I'd never leave my hand like that,
and I'll defend that arm bar.
Outside the sun is shining
and a host of dandelions
are smiling at the sky.
On my mobile
I price up industrial woodchippers
and wonder if they'll shred bone.
© Rachel Green April 2026
Baby?
you can drive my car...
I can't see...
© Rachel Green April 2026
Intaglio Romantic
I caught sight of an innovation
on this of 'things made by craftsmen'
which included an etching press
constructed by 3D printer
How curious!
A 3D printer
utilised to make a 2D printer
because the former is cheaper
than to reproduce the technology
of five centuries ago.
notebooks replaced paper
paper replaced vellum
vellum replaced papyrus
papyrus replaced clay
The application of technology
brings about convenience
and world destruction.
How would Prometheus feel
if he knew his theft of fire
would lead the thermonuclear bombs?
Would his liver regret the sacrifice?
and if I had an etching press
would I even use it?
Or just keep on painting
and writing my rubbish?
© Rachel Green April 2026
daughter's birthday
twenty-eight years passed since we met
when she was but twelve
© Rachel Green April 2026
Along the path
I toss bread onto the roof
of an abandoned building
where it lies among sedges
and sycamore seedlings
grasping at life from a centimetre of leaf mould.
Regulations
prevent me tossing it in the trash
and in the compost it becomes a foetid mess
at least here it can be taken
by birds too lazy to search for grubs
and squirrels at my daughter's bedtime,
and if left in piece
will allow microscopic fungal blooms
tiny proto-humanity
separated by a strand of DNA
and the process of evolution
© Rachel Green April 2026
oil paint solutions
in a single, multi-colour pour
grey canvas
© Rachel Green April 2026
Red Letter Days
Phillie's Diner
open late-night until two
we drank hot chocolate after the poetry
where she read both pieces
about the desolation and desperation
of single motherhood
and though the night was clear
the café windows were streaked
condensation?
Her tears were salt paths
walking the path of womanhood
through the tombs of ancestors.
© Rachel Green April 2026
raindrops
on an oil-shrouded canvas
abstraction
© Rachel Green April 2026
Pesticidal
blanket-wrapped
as the fire hisses and crackles
into the April night
where the sinking sun
highlights the vapour trail
from a long-passed jet plane
and later
the distinctive shape of Ursa Major
ploughs the dark clouds of spring.
© Rachel Green April 2026
