Outside at The Lamb

the table torn from you
Suddenly                 and we are close
John Ashbery, ‘Leaving the Atocha Station’

I am always at any given point in time and space aware of where you
are not. We haven’t meant to bring each other here, and still
don’t know how to do what others do, how they are
proximate and how they gesture across the table
as if throwing bread or taking off their clothes.
There are aphids attracted by the climbing plants
or yeasty glasses, by the stillness between us,
the dry earth’s anticipation of rain. You reach out
and take them from my hair – their bodies
are so translucent – look – light through an empty bottle,
a hatching egg, the sun moving behind a cloud the way
it does right now, when the question is our faces both turned
up toward the sky, and the answer is a swarm of tiny insects
coming closer, bringing uncountable small excuses for us to touch.

Martha Sprackland

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