the poet
One of Benedicta Norell's proudest moments was being interviewed for Sam Szanto's author blog and PhD on Mother Poetry. Others include being a judge for The Booby Prize for Poetry, and her longlisting in 2025 for Black Cat Poetry Press' Turning Points competition. Benedicta's poems have appeared in several online publications, including Dust Poetry, Atrium, Ink, Sweat & Tears and The Nuthatch. In print, her work has been published in The Body: An anthology of poetry, The Aftershock Review, To Lay Sun Into A Forest, and the inaugural issue of Blue Press. Her work has also featured in two episodes of Poetry Worth Hearing – Ill-being and Well-being and Making Up. Benedicta's debut chapbook is Terrible Mother. Her first collection comes out in 2027.
the poems
Units of Sound and Break
I was still little when I found out
I had a heart murmur we were made
to strip down so the French doctor
could examine us the stethoscope
was cold and the school day long
before home time and asking Mum
if I was going to die
for decades I believed my irregular
heartbeat meant I didn’t belong here
a Chinese doctor is supposed to have
said the heart only has so many beats
if so why go jogging I used to go
dancing as if syncing to the music
would train my rebellious core
to keep in step it didn’t
a British doctor heard me glitching
in menopause and wanted to refer me
I said no no thanks no
I do belong here by now
because I can feel my pulse slow
to the sea’s units of sound and break
oh wait the oceans came from comets –
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Money and Success
Once I asked my father:
What is money?
I don’t remember the answer,
it was long and pointless
like a career.
Once I asked my friends:
What is success?
They laughed in my face,
that’s when I knew
I was a failure.
Once I asked my god:
What is the point of me?
They said nothing at all.
And I went out to watch the cygnets
swimming like answers after their mother.
Ovaries
There’s a miniature Hawaii
in my middle-aged belly
where the waves are green,
the drinks pink, the sunsets
orange and coral every night.
When you get to my age,
they tell you your ovaries
have failed. There’s a test
I didn’t know about and
no way to pass, not nature
doing what she does best,
retiring her hardest workers
so they can have some fun.
The doctors scanned me,
they say my ovaries
are very hard to find. But
they have retired to Hawaii,
where their forty years
of surfing hormone surges
have made them legends
and the waves are green,
the drinks pink, the sunsets
orange and coral every night.
Publishing credits
Units of Sound and Break / Ovaries: exclusive first publication by iamb
Money and Success: Terrible Mother (Black Cat Poetry Press)