& Change Issue 8

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& Change continues to bring me joy, and from this issue a share a poem by Kit McGuire

Intimate/Intimate

I knew it from the last

time we fucked, sweat and drool,

hitch in your throat and you got tired

of me, clumsy, blurring myself out,

desperate to cover how

desperate for the salt coating all the

inside of my mouth. Briefly.

I knew it from the last

time you kissed me. And I kissed you.

I’d ask you to break my back.

Find small change behind my teeth.

Buy time.

I knew. I close my fist around how much I loved you.

Pink my cheeks with my fingers in swift circles

nothing in my mouth but air.

If I could afford it I’d buy better timing

and uncertainty.

Alter Egos Edited by Amy Acre and Jake Wild Hall

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Bad Betty Press bring us some great work, and this anthology is a shining example.

Among them highlights were

Notes from Mykonos Beach at 4am by Toby Campion

Glitter Fists by Anna Kahn

The Visit by Kate B Hall

an untitled poem by Cat Chong

Ambition by Carl Burkitt

Bold in The Life by Jeremy Dixon

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This is a delight of a collection in its celebration of Polari – part of the wider project to claim our queer histories…

I found the poem “I’m sure they are talking about us” which uses a selection of Polari words that have become mainstream powerful – all of which are very much in my family’s lexicon – English is perhaps the greatest magpie of a language and steals words all over the place.

The other thing that comes through is joy – Polari is a language that existed because queer people could not speak plainly – but they took that oppression and created something that delighted in itself, playful, punful, fierce in its defiance.

Polari is one of the ways that the queer boys find each other and end up giggling in the corner – but that invites some people and also excludes others – I acknowledge that without necessarily apologising for it. You can’t force community – but you can create communities that are open ended – and you put your elbows out to create space, even if they don’t join you they have space and light to find their own people …

The Forward Book of Poetry 2024

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I put tabs on the following poems

At Purteen Harbour by Jane Clarke

‘Avoid Direct Contact With the Skull’ by Safiya Kamaria Kinshasa

Third Gender Sonnet by Kandace Siobhan Walker

My body tells me that she’s filing for divorce by Kathryn Bevis

The School of Australia by Chen Chen

Forget by Majella Kelly

SUPER KING by Victoria Kennefick

Like This (Polari Version) by Adam Lowe

Virtual Thanksgiving by Geoffrey Philip

Cupid, Grown by Adam Panichi

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Adam is a Fourteen Poems poet – the poems are strong…

I put a tag in Bathhouse

Steam rises, a question in the room:

wet, dripping and mingling with sweat.

It’s hard to age a person from their genitals

alone, much less the way they yearn.

Somewhere in a darkroom, a man pulls

secrets out of another man. We men have long

held our motives for coming, this non-place

its organic edges, for meeting eyes as if through

an amoeba’s membrance. The lamps are dimmed,

we all believe, to preserve fantasy; we fear light

will reveal how gently we touch ourselves.

But other poems that I also remembered were;

The Boys Are Killing Their Sims On the Family PC

Cotton-Collared Mafiosi – because when me and a friend told our teacher we were being bullied by a kid in a lower year we were entirely gas-lit – two kids who didn’t yet know their were queer the victims of toxic masculinity from above and below!

Concrete Quarterly

The Black Flower by Holden Sheppard

 

After watching the amazing Invisible Boys I was keen to explore more of Holden Sheppard’s word.

The Black Flower is a short story that is gut wrenching – honest about the damage passed through generations – confronting about the destructive nature of addiction – written so well.

Also included is A Man – an even shorter story – a day, ordinary, but told with a punch that makes us pay attention.

Both examples of the greater skill is to write short stories, complete in themselves, than long stories.

A [Cupboard] Full of Tomboys by Jay Farley

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Jay plays with “form” – for example the poem “Twitter Is My Deadname” is the shape of the once familiar bird logo.

Some of the images were powerful – as when the poem “The Popped Football” touched a nerve.

The third part of the collection is a collaboration piece – and Jay treatment of the experiences of others is tender and skilful.