Poem in which everything remains much the same

the ground still
wet                      underfoot isn’t it

0                                                    a comfort
that the blue light from your television
will be alive on the lid of it all

and isn’t
your chest a little more
0                       swollen, just knowing that

the grass will be no more or less green
or brown          and the coffee will still cool

0                                      too quickly tomorrow

Karl Smith


today you smell like a day spent
in a foreign supermarket, while outside
it is threatening
to rain. and my parents are upset

because all they ask is that i am
happy for this two weeks, but two weeks
seems a long time: i am eleven
and i have only thought

twice about sex –
as an idea, without its own smell –
and somewhere, ten years ago, you
are not quite yourself

and I am not yet
fascinated by thunder

Karl Smith

Coming soon in Poems in Which Issue 4

The editors are delighted to announce the contributors for Issue 4:

Lutz Seiler translated by Alexander Booth

Melissa Lee-Houghton

Mark Waldron

Abigail Parry

Emma Hammond

Bobby Parker

Anat Zecharia translated by Irit Sela

Josephine Corcoran

Dollie Stephan

Samuel Prince

Francine Elena

Nicola Gledhill

Fiona Moore

Paul Stephenson

John Canfield

Alexander Speaker

Martha Sprackland

Eireann Lorsung

Joey Connolly

Anna Selby

Sarah Wedderburn

Karl Smith

Giles Goodland

and new artwork from Sophie Gainsley