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the poet
Originally from Devon but based now in London, Phoebe Gilmore has work in And Other Poems, Propel Magazine, Seaford Review, The Shore and eggplusfrog. She was shortlisted for the Bridport Poetry Prize in 2024, and is currently working towards her debut collection.
the poems
Gynaecology Ranch
Giddy up leather filly
there’s no use in lying
down like a dead book
our appointment
opens me to the hills
the secret once found
is grainy and black
buried under gut
and a disposable mini-
skirt of blue paper
doctor in the field
give me an answer
clear and thick as cold
lubrication so I may slip
prescription into my filly’s
mouth a brilliant metal
knocking against teeth
when I squeeze left
and right dig my spurs
into her bloated belly
knickerless animal on
animal when home
I’ll sleep off the long ride like
shrugging out of a winter coat
Turning King
When I attempt
to atomise, when
I’m a ball of spine
and flinging small
dogs from my throat
across bathroom
tile, figure womb
before as a light
membrane
of a forgotten
sock, transformed
to a pale fist of mud
night beginning
and with it
a fire engine
in my underwear,
in my blood
pills spinning
their wheels,
I open to the toilet
bowl, turn king,
it’s my castle.
Here comes the big one
After Hase
Godspeed big pink bunny
you appeared brief and accidental
but five years of hands
made you and assembled
your gangles like you fell
from the sky cartoonish
slide whistle a dropped clown
apple covered in hiker ants
on Colletto Fava the weather
ate you in the end and in the end
the weather ate you into a greying
gym sock I’m trying to find your ghost
on Google Maps I too will deteriorate
before my predicted time of deterioration
lying on the floor of my hallway assembled
like I’ve fallen from the ceiling
Publishing credits
Gynecology Ranch: And Other Poems
Turning King: Goldfish Anthology (Goldsmiths University)
Here comes the big one: exclusive first publication by iamb