I called to you this morning 
from another room 
in this new house we chose together, 
as lovers call to one another, every day, 
for a hundred mundane reasons

there’s coffee in the kitchen, 
someone wants you on the phone, 
leaving now but won’t be long 

I meant to call you in this way 
but through some slip in time and place,
called you by her name.

After all these years, I used her name
when the word I wanted was Love

Past lives

As if meeting a promise she made to herself a long time ago, as if placing an unfinished glass at the edge of the cluttered table, as if turning her body away forever, she speaks very gently, I asked only this, that you were honest

Weekly ramble

You’re on at me for being late again, while you were on time as you always are, then as we walk the talk turns to the usual stuff: cutting back on the drink, watching the waistline, you’ve found a new app that tracks your heartrate, then you mention some bloke we went to school with who you bumped into the other day, he looked a right fucking plightI’ve never seen anyone in such a state still walking the street, and we both go quiet, feeling better. 

Meet the Poet!

Alex Reed’s poetry has been published in various print and on-line magazines. His pamphlets A Career in Accompaniment and These Nights at Home (with accompanying images by Keren Banning) were published by V. Press and explore themes of illness, care-giving and loss.

His recent collection knots, tangles, fankles (V.Press, 2022) is a re-imagining of the work of radical psychiatrists R.D. Laing & A. Esterson on family life and ‘schizophrenia’.