colossal calm

hush    of pink dusk settles on everything

powders rooftops, streetlamps, cars, concrete.

my torso from the skylight is a thumb-print

in dust. glint of a far-off plane is splintered glass

tracing east    to west, along the fabric of the sky

catching    on loose thread, teasing open a thin

white slit behind it. this is not a wound

nothing like the white of fat before blood in a cut   

+ laughter    is curious    doesn’t pinch? i think this is   

bliss?    my mind’s made up     + nothing hurts

‘cause i’m not really here   

going to slip off like a card through a letter box

maybe i’ll grab on to this rising moon

lift off


Art by Naiara Zalbidea

Naiara Zalbidea is an illustrator from Basque Country, who spends her free time working on her passion: illustrating. One day she hopes to work on it full time, to show everyone the universe she sees in all the little things around the world.

Day Mattar: Queer merperson, on land completing a Creative Writing MA at Manchester Met University. Can be found performing poetry, starkers, in Liverpool’s Queer Cabaret, Eat Me. Hopes to reincarnate as a humpback whale. Published in The Rialto, Tilt, The Tangerine, Lambda Literary, RFD. Bronze award in the Creative Future Literary Awards 2017. Shortlisted in the Cafe Writers Competition and the Magma Poetry Competition. Insta: @daymattarpoetry // Twitter: @daymattar