This morning, under a waning moon and a bright planet, the swirling wind stirs up the scent of mud and brick dust.
Alt text says this week’s photo is a person smiling in a wreath. I say it is me twelve years ago taking my turn to have a photo taken. A group of us were finding much merriment in posing for our festive pictures and there was plenty of laughter. I picture this moment in my head each time the Christmas season comes around, and I hold it with a special kind of nostalgia because one of the lovely people who made the best photo that night is no longer with us.
This week I visited a DIY store to purchase a cardboard box (!) and the aisle it was in wasn’t easy to locate. Whilst leaning into the fact that I was probably getting some of my steps in on a rainy day I spotted a pink wreath. It was the perfect opportunity to create another wreath photo, and it brought me joy whilst wondering where aisle 61 was.
This week I did something I have never done before. I sent a simultaneous submission, i.e, I sent the same poem out to two different places at the same time. I have a system in place to make sure I don’t do this. It’s a spreadsheet (thanks to Jo Bell for the idea) and I am careful to log all my poems and where they are. Tiredness and my brain telling me it was sure a new poem couldn’t possibly have flown the nest yet saw me send off a submission before filling in the spreadsheet. The saving grace is that both places allow for this, but it is not something that I like doing, and it is the perfect reminder to me of why I have a system in place.
In delightful poetry news this week I received a Pushcart Prize nomination from Black Bough’s Matthew M C Smith for my poem, THERE’S A DOLL THUMPING IN MY CHEST. The poem was part of my Silver Branch feature for Black Bough in August 2025.The Pushcart Prize is an opportunity for poems published by small presses to be included in a dedicated anthology. Whether it is selected for inclusion or not I am delighted that the poem was recognised as having something special about it. I love the nomination, the poem, the way the poem evolved, and the way I have evolved since writing it!
I have shared it in this blog before, but to celebrate it one more time I will share it again now:
THERE’S A DOLL THUMPING IN MY CHEST
I spend a long time soothing her to sleep.
And sometimes I feel I’m running out of options.
When she cries,
and trust me she cries easily,
her whole body heaves.
And even when I’m calming her
there’s that long hiccupping of recovery
still stealing my air.
I don’t know if it’s the thought of people
knowing she’s inside me
that scares me most,
or that she’s going to beat her fists so hard
she breaks right through my ribcage
while they’re watching.
Sue Finch 