smells of cabbage, warm damp, and by Mary Mulholland



smells of cabbage, warm damp, and


a hush as if the forest is

haunted. i'm an ant in the gaze

of trees reaching the green sky.

pinpricks of light squeezing

through the canopy gaps. a

rose-window. cathedral nave. a

choir of capuchins sing in the

gallery. waiting in treefrog

silence for the conductor to

arrive we hold our breath in the

sweet smell of rot. me in my

antness. the trees in their

treeness. this is the place

between stillness and sound.

lights switch off to usher in

night. enter the red howlers.

hear them call. a troop of them

whooping before sleep. howling

as if they've set free the

underworld.



Mary Mulholland’s poems have been published in many journals from AMBIT to Under the Radar, and have been mentioned in competitions range from Bridport to Winchester, most recently highly commended in Rialto Nature and Place. Her collaboration with Simon Maddrell and Vasiliki Albedo, All About Our Mothers, is published by Nine Pens and her debut pamphlet What the Sheep Taught Me, will be published this year by Live Canon. www.marymulholland.co.uk @marymulhol