woodsmoke
passing the allotments
burning leaves
© Rachel Green October 2026
Almost Always
why do I dream
of urinating in odd places
like stove tops
and towel bales
or a disconnected toilet
at a childhood friend's
or the men's urinal in a shopping mall.
At least I always wake up.
© Rachel Green October 2026
salvation army
the stench of old urine
homeless lads
© Rachel Green October 2026
Broken Furniture
there's a recurring dream
where the house is full of rubbish
and art supplies and woodworking tools
but the child (now thirty) is still two years old
and their toys are everywhere.
The wallpaper is peeling from the ceiling
in the dampness of the attic room
and a hole in the wattle and daub wall
reveals a glassless atrium beyond
overlooking the neighbour's yard
and my ex-ex-ex's father
is scowling at me as usual.
© Rachel Green October 2026
Grave diggers
Opening up an old grave
Second burial
© Rachel Green October 2026
Feel Safe
Rusted machete
Brushed off and varnished
A sweep of acrylic
And some lettering in gold
The story of an object
In thirty words or less
© Rachel Green October 2026
windy bin day
the garden full of rubbish
next door's
© Rachel Green October 2026
Tiny Demons
small paintings
on pieces of rubbish
picked up on the street.
These are the things I feel
as I creep through the passion
of each passing day.
Encapsulated turbulence
masking internal breakdowns
offset by coping mechanisms
of societal masks
© Rachel Green October 2026
pouring rain
disintegrating cardboard boxes
Amazon deliveries
© Rachel Green October 2026
Price of Admission
mummified
in latex and tar
angelic wings blackened
by the passing years
frozen in the simple act
of masturbation
her fingers
still inside
© Rachel Green October 2026
wild and windy
stripping off the leaves
naked sycamores
© Rachel Green October 2026
On the Purchase of a Hat
I bought a hat today.
A woolly hat to save my ears
from being cold.
I'm old
and people smile at me
because I skip and dance along the street
and they think perhaps the village fool
has been released just for a day
and maybe it's the hat
and maybe it's the wide-eyed smile
and maybe it's the wishing of a happy day.
© Rachel Green October 2026
kitchen clock
with egg on its face
they've boiled dry
© Rachel Green October 2026
Attempting to be Cheerful (V)
bank account
reaches negative numbers
long before the month runs out
but I have apples
and baked beans
and more dog food
than the month has days remaining.
I have somewhere to live
and love given freely
and the internet is paid for
All we really need is time to write
and time to create
and dogs to keep me warm
© Rachel Green October 2026
