Free Verse Revolution:

Eureka

13,000 years ago, a mother held

Her child on her hip as it pressed

Small fingers on firelit walls,

Pressed until they yielded, until

They were remade in its image

In the last gulping bowels of tree

Kind, a man stares down a scope

At a stumbling doe and it is holy,

This communion of two hollow

Hunters, each mouth dry for thirst

Laid flat against antiseptic sheets,

An old woman cringes close-eyed

Against the tide of her breath and

Bites down, a red sea slowly parting

Her unresisting jaws

Yesterday, I stood behind glass

And stared into the unlit street,

Waiting. The face caught between

Flesh and air did not change.

Reflection is a self, haunted. 

You can download a free digital copy of Issue II through the Issues tab and, if you wish, you can make a contribution to FVR’s future endeavours through the Donate tab.