Telepathy written by Robbie Masso at Spillwords.com

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Telepathy

Robbie Masso·April 11, 2017

English Poetry

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Telepathy

written by: Robbie Masso

@robbie.masso

Our minds are helping each other
write the same book
with permanent ink –
one in first-person,
one in third.

Her promise ring keeps falling
off of her crossed fingers.

Mosquitoes are resting on my skin,
waiting for my permission,
but I keep swatting them away
instead of giving them my lust-filled blood.

The letters that make up her name
can be rearranged to make mine –

Is that why I’m forcing
my mind to complete our book?

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Robbie Masso

Aspiring writer influenced by the likes of Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jim Morrison, Bob Dylan, Langston Hughes, etc.

Suman Pokhrel

Suman Pokhrel is a Nepali poet, lyricist, playwright, translator, and artist. He debuted in 1999 with a poetry collection and has since published works, including translations of Shakespeare and global poets. His poems are translated into many languages and taught across South Asia. A two-time SAARC Literary Awardee, he also received Asia’s Inspiring Poet Award and was named Author of the Month by Spillwords in June 2023. Beyond literature, he works as a freelance consultant in socio-economic research, rural development, entrepreneurial development and creative writing. He began his career in Nepal’s civil service and later worked with international NGOs. He holds degrees in Science, Law, Business Administration, and Economics.

Condoms by Seán Óg Ó Murchú

They all laughed at me. All the dinner ladies. It started with your one, I’m after forgetting her name now… Smelly Nelly’s ma. A wet little tear trickled toward her tattooed cheekbone. She was roaring red. Her harsh, wheezing laughter sounded like a black taxi tackling the Whiterock Road, her throat destroyed from all the fegs she used to be hoofing into her. She called over the other dinner ladies then, an army of them. Or maybe it was the curiosity of her horrid laughing that brought them over… I can’t remember.
“Tell the girls what you’re only after asking me there ni wee mawn.”
I looked between herself and the girls. Jesus Christ, I said in my own mind, Mental Mick is after stealing all my crayons that I’d been hoarding for myself there before the break...

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