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Penny Blackburn

Windfall Love

​There were miles of sterile plastic polytunnels.
Neatly labelled, well-ordered crops inside, waiting
for organised workers who spoke
with accented politeness in the village shops.
 
After, we passed through the muddy yard
and on the track we saw the wild fruit fallen,
bright bruises on the tarmac. We debated
what they were, decided damsons –  
 
too small for plums. Usually too sharp
to eat raw, but these were sun-soaked
in the heatwave and flooded us with sweetness.
We glutted. We could not stop.
 
Once plucked, some showed their secret shame.
Eaten away by birds, or insect-ravaged inside.
We abandoned them, snatched higher and higher
for others. The last – split by your stained thumb,
 
spilt out two perfect, golden halves. I rolled mine
in my mouth from teeth to tongue, tasted the coming
of the end of summer. Felt myself swelling, skin
stretched taut like over-ripened fruit.
 
In the pit of my gut, the buzz of guilt.
Like a cascade of wasps, honey-taunted,
uncontainable.

Biography

Picture
Penny Blackburn (she/her) lives in North East England but is originally from Yorkshire. Her poetry has been published by, among others, Poetry Society News, Lighthouse, Dreamcatcher, and Riggwelter. Penny was recently awarded second place in the Ver Poetry Competition 2022 and was also commended in the Waltham Forest and Positive Images Festival competitions. She is co-host of Cullerpoets poetry stanza and host of Under the Arches spoken word evening. Penny is on Twitter and Facebook as @penbee8.
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ISSN 2639-426X
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    • Issue 27
    • Issue 26
    • Issue 25
    • Issue 24
    • Issue 23
    • Issue 22
    • Issue 21
    • Issue 20
    • Issue 19
    • Issue 18
    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
    • Issue 15
    • Issue 14
    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
    • Issue 12
    • Issue 11
    • Issue 10
    • Issue 9
    • Issue 8
    • Issue 7
    • Issue 6
    • Hand to Mouth
    • Issue 5
    • Issue 4
    • Issue 3
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 1
  • Submissions