treading blood-soaked carpet
her murdered mother
© Rachel Green July 2026
Pale Rider
through fuliginous streets he plots
one hoof, then the next;
it matters not when he gets there
for always his arrival is at the end
when hope has faded and blood
stains the rumpled sheets,
piss and shit attracting flies
who always know that death approaches
before the angels even care.
once, she dreamed of lofty towers
but seems fate had other destinies.
© Rachel Green July 2026
woken at five
by two excited puppers
who sleep all day
© Rachel Green July 2026
Tightly Permed Hair
I tried to foster the relationship
I once had with my mother
but she died when I was a child
but mostly I remember her fur coat
and her tiny hands clutching mine
as she half walked, half dragged me to church
on a Sunday morning
when what I really wanted
was a bacon sandwich in bed
like she made for my dad.
Perhaps I grew up resenting God
because I was denied bacon.
© Rachel Green July 2026
Widget is confused
at her fresh pint of water
my breakfast dogmeat
© Rachel Green July 2026
Matthew Ponomarenko
killed his son with a baseball bat
hitting him so many times
there was no head left on his six-year old body
because the voices made him do it.
His family all support him
because they believe in God
and the voices were the devil.
Besides, the kid was autistic
and better off in the ground.
© Rachel Green July 2026
2 AM trio
poking around number 84
police jacket immunity
© Rachel Green July 2026
The Colour of Desire
that shade of sage green
evoking the wallpaper
of 1920s Bohemia.
I mix it accidentally
with just a splash of gold
veining like marble.
How I wish I could sit
with Vita Sackville-West
as she takes afternoon tea
with Virginia Woolf
© Rachel Green July 2026
my father's advice:
"Always put a rubber on it."
suffocated husband.
© Rachel Green July 2026
Roasted Grounds
we do what we can
to conform to society's mores
but the ache in my belly
belies the nausea I feel.
I'm getting used to bad coffee
cheap creamer, budget brands;
no longer the espresso with a drop of cream
which makes my belly balloon.
Will I care so much
about appearances when I'm blind?
Or will physical strength and fitness
power me into the grave?
© Rachel Green July 2026
earwig on my arm
its belief in teleportation
when it's taken outside
© Rachel Green July 2026
On Not Passing
passing a bottle of country wine
to the brothers across the road
(a neighbourly gift)
and the one says 'thank you'
and the other: 'you're a gentleman'
I bloody hope not:
it was removed thirty years ago
and a pretty well certain
it doesn't grow back.
© Rachel Green July 2026
uploading
Amazon goods to loft space
heavy load
© Rachel Green July 2026
Kissing
Chatsworth car park
at two in the morning
kissing...
and more than kissing...
with a married woman
who sneaked out of her house
when dearest hubby was asleep;
and a sudden flurry of panicked activity
when the headlights of a police car
appears through the gate.
© Rachel Green July 2026
