Karo Kujanpaa Alexandria.jpg


Poet: Rosie James

On the edge of a silvered lake

a heron poised like a telescope

caught fish for the slaughter.

The day was darkening overhead,

but the beer cans were still full,

so I lay underneath our coats and shivered.

In the morning I’d gulped orange juice

straight from the carton with sour breath,

my hand shaking with the effort,

now I snapped the ring-pull off a Karhu,

drank until I understood a foreign language,

pale bodies swimming in and out of focus.

When I looked to the disc of the lake

the heron’s crest was streaked with blood.


Rosie James holds both a BA and an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Gloucestershire. They have previously been published in Fresh Leaves (Vine Leaves Publishing, 2018).