Poem of the Week: ‘From Atmosphere to Hydrosphere’ by Sarah Ang

2nd Place
‘Hanging’ by Dominic Bond

Each exchange involved spilt wine,
sometimes their own blood, although
it never changed the fact they

had a damp problem. Ever since the end
of the life in her womb, so little light
permeated the herbs were left

hanging dead by the kitchen window.
Bread took on the grey of a
January morning, covered in moss.

What didn’t have cobwebs had
faded into obscurity, like wheelbarrows
left rusting in winter gardens.

When the wind changed direction
he would catch the eyes he fell
in love with, the same arms

that taught him the exonerating nature
of flesh. Then he’d sit in the garden,
watching birds to understand
the living.