My 10-Year-Old SelfA poem by Tricia McCallum My 10-Year-Old Self I will take her tiny hand and she will lead me out of here. She makes sense of what I can’t these days. Cuts to the bone, her instincts impeccable,... Continue Reading →
Why WorryA poem by Tricia McCallum Why Worry and pine for what is not, all the beauty now dust, the sad terrible waste, when we are mere particles of stardust, here for an instant, then on to unimaginable other planes.... Continue Reading →
We All Need SomethingA poem by Tricia McCallum We All Need Something You can hear me. I know you can. Despite the din of the socials, The news cycle on a loop, Each greedy nugget clamoring for a place in... Continue Reading →
Potential PoetryA poem by Tricia McCallum Potential Poetry The sky. And the sky above that. The exchange of unmentionables between mouths. Other people’s shame. My friend who said we never write about anything we can ever figure out. For him,... Continue Reading →
I AmA poem by Tricia McCallum I AmI am from my mother’s bed in a Glasgow tenement,walls thick with coal dust.I am from Saturday confession, identical school uniforms, unflinching patriarchy.I am from melancholy to the marrow of my bones.I am... Continue Reading →
Cleaning David Bowie’s Apartment, 1973, London’s West End.A poem by Tricia McCallum Cleaning David Bowie’s Apartment, 1973, London’s West End. It was like any other apartment on my roster.Untidy, untended.They all look the same.Tea stains mottled the kitchen sink,and the... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 