Truth, by Sophie May Coates

You found it on the ledge,
that truth you had heard spoken
but had never seen in the house
or witnessed for yourself
like sasquatch sat at your window.

At first it sat nicely. Content.
Licking itself admiringly
and so you began to lick yourself,
imitating its self adulation
at the fact that you’d caught it.

Then it shuffled in your hand
……………..– caved in on itself –
uncomfortable with its form
like concaved prepubescents
making their way through school corridors.

Less solid than expected, the grip slipped,
it fell through the wood flooring,
to the suspended mess below,
losing all its soft and tactile fur
as it slipped through the cracks in panels.

You still had the licked marks
on your shoulders
a stain on the ledge
and littered hairs on the floor

hopefully you’ll find him again in a magazine
or The Daily Mail.

What You Notice When The Signal’s Gone by Sophie May Coates

Reflected in the noir glass pane

of a newspaper stand,

I uncover the marked shape,

less tainted by the ceramic walls.


The smog that settles on the shoulders,

those crowded into compartments.

Stalked by the digital shields of life

– absorbed in the rose gold coat.


-A sleepy image,

somewhere between me

and where I have settled in the crowd

Feeding Narcissus by Sophie May Coates

Cue inane picture of hat and pencil

*porn giff*

meaningful pine trees

coated with sans font

‘fuck you’.

Nicki Minaj

is so feminist,

feeling the way she feels

that banana.


Taylor Swift ‘blank space’

picture of windowsill.

‘I tried so hard to be


so that you would want me

as much as I wanted you’

*Illiterate fuckboy slang*

young people driving.

Boy with dark hair, smoking in sunglasses

then come the wolves with triangle backdrop

Star Wars

incestuous fan art,

self-proclaimed ‘gamer-girl’,

*porn giff*

Breakfast Club animation

brought to you by:

meaningful twat that’s never seen Breakfast Club.

Thank you

for your contributions.

I hate people.


Postcards from Trump’s America by Sophie May Coates

The school yard gave you dirt

now real estate magnate channels welfare queen.


Keep your mouth shut or talk their language!

Broad decline to divisionary,

collapsed into scuffles of the anxious.


Better angels step outside,

the night crawlers lay on their back,

roly-poly inside the house.


Routine courtesy of men at my elbow,

painfully favourable 1950’s TV,

Scott and Steve Leader lead us to

trampled legal vertebrates

– I’m not just saying Mexicans.


And some,

I assume,

are good people.


Send to all.


Currently studying English Literature and Creative Writing at Kingston University.