Kevin Reid – four poems

To be honest

another silent night in the bedroom,
other rooms are family ghosts.

Being alone burns,
as does a hungry stomach.
By the bed an empty chipped bowl;
cereal saves cooking.

Books are closed. You too.
Friendships starting this late
can’t hug with lifelong history.

From a distance she told her, be patient,
you will meet people in the real world.


Her red bike
Her sunset shoes
Her pedal dance

distance waits
for her arrival

She doesn’t own
a mobile phone

Taste of God to a Lifelong Atheist

Neither man nor woman,
meat or bone. Neither
ciabatta nor Kingsmill,

baguette or bagel, no,
this is a Flying Saucer
without the sherbet,

edible paper without the sugar,
a single wafer with no ice cream

If I was trying to convert you
I wouldn’t mention cardboard.

Hail Mary

after your glorious ascension,
I watched you on television;
a young girl descending
in an elevator, Midge moused
upon your shoulder,
obedient Mungo by your side.

Kevin Reid lives in Angus. He is the founding creator of the online multimedia collaborations >erasure and >erasure ii and Wordless, an image and text collaboration with George Szirtes published by Knives, Forks and Spoons Press. He’s also the editor of Nutshells and Nuggets, a blogzine for short poems. His poetry can be found in various online and printed zines including, Domestic Cherry, And Other Poems, The Open Mouse, Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Interpreter’s House, The Stare’s Nest and The Poetry Bus, and forthcoming in Under the Radar.

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