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An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.

Issue Three




There's a lie curled beneath the baby
When the moon enters her room
it swallows her –
but the lie pulls her back
by her pudgy toes
As the baby grows
she's brave enough to slay
the moon's sham of silver


The station emptied and filled  
it was light then it grew dark

I stood for days on the same spot  
I slept on my feet
I was waiting for a carriage of children    

A voice overheard asked the question:
"Is this Liverpool Street station  
is this my destination?"

A train appeared out of a dark tunnel
It was crowded with adults
and their stifling fears

Commuters pushed forward   
as if in a dream
they flung books at doors
that wouldn't open
glazed eyes stared back at them

I stepped onto the tracks
I wandered the tunnels
to find a way out

A torch blazed a hole in the earth
I climbed up and like a seed
drifted into the world

Assassin in his palace of faces
Night calms itself
steels itself like a stubborn child
There's a bird warbling in a tree
its pearl eye can be seen
like a moon through leaves
I sit in my hut and listen
I see known faces from every angle
shine like rain on windows
I grieve
Someone paces the turret
silent as a shadow   
His gun raised
his bird coming into view

Jo Slade is a poet and painter from Limerick. She is the author of four books of poetry, including a French/English collection, Certain Octobers published in France. Her latest collection, City of Bridges, was published by Salmon Poetry in 2005. In 2003 she was nominated for the Prix Evelyne Encelot Ecriture Prize, Paris.

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