Spoor

We climb stars to the moon.
There are as many scents as are stones
in the sea. In all time, before and after,

our lake was a stone bowl, brim full.
There are as many stones as stars
in the night, now we say anosmia.

Once upon a stave, you caught all the notes –
the full perfumed orchestra – top notes,
base notes, heart notes, our life elegies.

An old woman says, don't smell basil
or a scorpion will appear in your brain.
And a scorpion appears in your brain.

Marcus Rashford: ‘Given where I came from there isn’t a lot I can now complain about’

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‘Damn her to hell’: Dawn French and more on Marian Keyes as Rachel’s Holiday turns 25

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How do you write a children’s picturebook, and why can 100 words take two years?

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The Love Makers by Aifric Campbell: Ethical quandaries of a sex robot

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Today’s poem is from Eleanor Hooker’s collection Of Ochre and Ash (Dedalus Press)