Featured Poet, Anne Casey


resting my head on your shoulder
you said there is
no future no
past only this
this moment
i replied it
never yesterday
or tomorrow
we can live forever
in this unending
now and then
we turned
the light


Artemis, protector
of unmarried girls,
where were you
when they howled your name?

ghosting over shadows
of fates evanesced
you waxed and waned
while no-one knew

how you’d
let them down


Do you miss her?

Only when she is off
stood by my father
shapeshifting his mood

Do you miss her?

Only when she flies to my
brother’s side holding
still to her first-born child

Do you miss her?

Onlywhen she sweeps in
like some changing wind
to bewitch superstitious minds

Do you miss her?

Like a small round
stone in the hollow turn
beyond my swollen tongue

Do you miss her?

Like a clinging
vine intertwined in the
cleft of my left ventricle

Do you miss her?

Like the wet black
scratch as a sharp nib
inscribes her name inside my ribs

Do you miss her?

Only as far as
ice crystals on the
heights of Sagarmāthā

Do you miss her?

Only as deep as
serpentine in the floor
of the Mariana Trench

Do you miss her?

Only as much as
a heart or a lung
not inasmuch as

I could count the ways

1.The title for this poem originates from a line in the 43rd sonnet of a collection of love sonnets written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
2. Sagarmāthā meaning “Peak of Heaven” is the Sanskrit name for Mount Everest.


Modest as a novice, Autumn slips in
without the riotous fanfare of her showier sister, Spring.

Her breath is cooler and with unassuming care,
she whispers prudent prognostications, summoning forth a solemner air.

Subtly, she draws us back, like some distant drummer
from all the fuss and heat and noise of her raucous brother, Summer.

In muted robes of earthen tones and with steps more measured
she slowly sheds the gilded charms that her flightier siblings treasured.

In between the trappings of fallen beauty all around,
she leaves a hint of times to come when all will lie ungowned.

Darkly chasing sister Autumn on hooves of ice-cold steel,
Winter—wielding whetted blades—will bring the weak to heel.


A twirl of emerald
for the circular skirt
that caught your eye
as Bridget Brennan
swanned into your life with her
shopgirl glamour, and you forever
wondering how you ever won her over

A twist of turquoise
trimmed with amber
for the laughter in your
darling boy’s eyes
reaching out of the tea-chest—
makeshift play-pen—for his
Daddy’s arms to hold him

The chestnut swirl
of your little girl’s curls
framed in white
reflecting the glow
of her shining face
First Holy Communion lace
unfolding into a bridal train

A grey gash of ache
for the lost babe
knocked sideways by the
bright red-yellow-blue flash as
five sons clash to split the ash
across your fresh-cut grass
and slash their mother’s prize begonias

The clink, clink, chink of them—
tiny, shiny multi-coloured orbs
one by one slipping and spilling
between grazed knees
past the muddied margins
beyond the grasping reach
of your loosened grip

If you liked Anne Casey then you will also enjoy Ruth Aylett

Stay in touch with Anne Casey at her website here

About the contributor

Anne Casey's collections are 'where the lost things go' (Salmon Poetry 2017) and 'out of emptied cups' (Salmon Poetry 2019). Anne has worked for 25+ years as a journalist, magazine editor, media communications director and legal author. Her poetry ranks in The Irish Times Most-Read and is widely published internationally — The Irish Times, Entropy, apt, Murmur House, Quiddity, Barzakh, FourXFour (Poetry NI), Cordite, The Canberra Times, Verity La and Plumwood Mountain among others. Anne’s poetry has won/shortlisted for awards in Ireland, USA, UK, Canada and Australia. She is Senior Poetry Editor of Other Terrain and Backstory journals (Swinburne University, Melbourne).

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