Eyewear is pleased to offer a poem by young British poet Katherine Lockton this sunny London day (despite or because of its seemingly being contrary to the editor's own belief-system; see Citizen Kane for exploration of editorial duality and its pitfalls and promises).
Lockton is a radio production student and poetry workshop leader for those suffering from physical and mental health conditions. Her poetry has appeared in magazines such as Magma, Rising, online at Whippersnapperpress, live on BCB radio and was shortlisted for the 2010 Bridport Prize. Her first play is on at The Albany Theatre on the 19th April 2011.
She rocks herself, counts rosary beads.
She twists the cord around her thumb
until the string snaps and loosed beads
bounce at her feet – tiny lovers fucking.
She holds her empty body until she can't bear it.
Tears at stitched wrists with a sharp edge of cross.
poem by Katherine Lockton; published online with permission of the author