Akinna Aquino

From The Book of Hours

by Rainer Maria Rilke

I love the dark hours of my being

for the deepen my senses;

in them as in old leters I fin

my daily life already lived

in holy words, so soft and subdued.

Phase One by Dilruba Ahmed

For leaving the fridge open
last night, I forgive you.
For conjuring white curtains
instead of living your life.

For the seedlings that wilt, now,
in tiny pots, I forgive you.
For saying no first
but yes as an afterthought.

I forgive you for hideous visions
after childbirth, brought on by loss
of sleep. And when the baby woke
repeate

A Portable Paradise by Roger Robinson

And if I speak of Paradise,
then I'm speaking of my grandmother
who told me to carry it always
on my person, concealed, so
no one else would know but me.
That way they can't steal it, she'd say.
And if life puts you under pressure,
trace its ridges in your pocket,
smell its piney scent on your handkerchief,
hum its anthe

Say I forgot by Lorraine Mariner

Say I forgot how to love you, the way

when I was eight I forgot how to swim?

Could you steel yourself as my mother did

when she enrolled me in lessons for the holiday,

sat up in the stalls with a four-year-old

every morning for a month and afternoons

took me swimming herself in a learner pool

let me grip her hands willing

Failing and Flying by Jack Gilbert

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It’s the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other