Poems by David O'Hanlon (UK)

Published in The Ofi Press issue 36.

Unbreakable

One of her is naked,

the other fully clothed,

she stands either side of a sheet 

of glass in rooms identical 

but for a single detail.

And there's the irony of synchronous 

speech and soundproof glass:

it might fall, might shatter

if they heard it from the other,

but each listens to herself.

 Blood Test

What's the matter with you?

After all the stuff you do 

to yourself, cutting up your 

arms with razors and all sorts,

you get squeamish at the 

sight of a needle? Just 

close your eyes, you big wuss. 

It'll be over in a second.

Christ, you're no son of mine.