‘The First Rule’ and other poems by Susan Millar DuMars

Reclamation   The blood has stopped and with it the need to suckle lesser creatures. My breasts are pale, cool proud and mine.   The blood has stopped and with it the need to shield smaller souls inside me. My womb calm. Not weeping. And it’s my womb.   I’m learning the pleasure of empty. [...]

‘Ism Writers’ by Susan Millar DuMars

Ism Writers The world is full of ism writers sobbing, always sobbing for many distant victims – but if they found 'you' bobbing in the river, clearly drowning they’d explain in patient tones how your privilege, not the current, is what’s dragging you down. They’d talk until the bubbles stopped pen an elegy then for [...]

“Madame Matisse Is Shown Her Portrait, 1913” & other poems by Susan Millar DuMars

Dreams for Breakfast   Sometimes everything is blue; the hills, my hands, house keys, chimney smoke. If I bit the air my mouth would fill with blue juice. I’m peaceful, though I wonder, what casts such a big shadow?   Or I’m on a bus with plaid seat covers. The other passengers are wilted, short [...]