ORANGE WINE AND CIGARETTES
Any evening would be seduced
by such soft awnings.
I read from an old book
about flowers.
You want my picture,
but not if I’m looking.
For some silent reason,
I pose a threat—
you want me kneeling.
It’s not enough
to make my cunt wet.
You want my eyes wet too.
As if in service to a god,
you drive the night
to a terminal Amen,
turn out my pockets
then disappear—
my little things exposed
to the cruellest light.
WINTER
I let it kill things. I stop replying
to men who don’t mean it.
How did I get this far
without asking for anything?
I thought if I never asked,
someone would notice my need.
Thought my landlord wouldn’t raise the rent
if I muted anything resembling rage.
Like soup on the stove,
I let my feelings reduce
until there’s nothing to eat—
for me, or anyone.
NOTES FOR SPRING
Hoarding floral mugs
Facing the rain
Buildings fade to grey
I listen
for the soft music of bath foam
I need healthier obsessions
Book title: Sulk
I could go dark mode for a while
The birds are quieter
than this time last year
Consider the chrysalis—
short-term coffins
self-made
Poppy Cockburn is a writer based in Margate, UK, where she runs the literary event series ‘Is it Dirty?’ Her debut poetry collection, Naked Oyster, was published by If a Leaf Falls Press in 2025 and a second collection is forthcoming later in 2026. She has a cat.
High Horse 