which is dedicated to Barbara Kirbyshaw
Barbara, when I first met her in a pub in Brighton, was co-running Flight of the Dragonfly Press. She now does this on her own, and has proven yet again that her commitment to the written word is something that should be celebrated.
This poem was a major milestone for me, published as it was in the inaugural edition of Flights magazine, nearly five years ago. In the intervening period my debut pamphlet was a FoTD publication. My second pamphlet will be the same, which is due in October.
Razor sharp, empathic and very committed to their path, Barbara is the mate I wished lived closer to so I could pop round and hassle them for line edits in person. She’s also VERY good at twisting my arm to do stuff in the right order. I do love an organised writer.
Ring
Again, orbits collide
fingers clasped, emphatic ride
disturbed by which
you never will remove
and that destroys
all sanctity we ever hold.
‘I cannot leave’, and yet
you stay, each time
apologetic as the last,
decaying moment’s tryst, lust
fractured, bound as art.
What hangs us isn’t gold;
unmake life’s possibility
forever gone, potential she,
not I
beholds.
Poem copyright S. Reeson © 2026
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