02 Joe Thomas and Christina Thatcher
Welcome to the second episode of Dickens and Quips!
This week we have Joe Thomas on the show and I shall be reading from How to Carry Fire by Christina Thatcher.
Find Sam at @joefishthomas on Twitter and Insta
Christina Thatcher is @writetoempower on Twitter.
We are at
Prompt for this week is "fire extinguisher" and you don't have to be an established poet to submit a poem.
An Improper Kindness
All available in How to Carry Fire by Christina Thatcher.
Supermarket by Dee Dickens
I’m on the floor in the grocery store
snotty trails on my jumper.
Everyone has been so nice.
It’s just that
my brave face is so damn tired.
My arms ache from wiping their tears.
My throat burns with words unsaid.
I make tea and hope they
don't taste the salt water.
Supermarket guy comes over to ask,
Is everything alright?
No, supermarket guy, everything is not alright.
I want Yorkshire pudding,
and I can’t find the batter mix.
He’s smiling, but his eyes say confused,
there's a tilt of a head
from a passing old woman telling me
I should just make my own.
I can’t remember how.
I don’t know the ingredients.
I can’t focus on anything
but the emptiness of my belly.
Except that I need to have
To know that something inside me is still alive.
Imaginary friend: by Joe Thomas
I’m an imaginary friend
that’s been thought into existence
or maybe you wished hard enough.
I don’t know. You tell me.
I’m the madman who fell from the sky,
and before anyone says it, I’m not him.
Mr love of my life and Mr man of my dreams
aren’t nearly chaotic enough.
Mr Right’s entrance runs too smoothly
to come down to Earth with a crash.
No, I’m not here to be your first choice
but I know what
“I like you…
like more than a friend…
you get me?”
means when I hear it.
Don’t worry. It worked.
I’ve been doing this
long enough to know
we wouldn’t be here
talking right now if it hadn’t.
If you’re interested
here are the rules.
Take food as a given.
If you stalk my social media,
if I find a heart react
on a selfie I took with my cat
because I’m in the picture
you’re doing it wrong.
If you scroll past my pictures,
“Oh my god!
He’s so cute!
I LOVE him!”
and you didn’t mean the dog
but come out with “I want in,”
you’re brave, I’ll give you that much…
If you try to make me choose
“Who is it going to be?
Or friend 2?”
by definition means:
“BOTH OF YOU.”
it’s not going to work out.
In return, I can only give you a hug
one you can still feel long after it’s finished
one that clings on and will not let you go.
If I do it right, it should squeeze
every “You’re not as good as you think
you are” thought until they pop
I write you a pretentious poem
which, at the end of the day,
is just a glorified shitpost
that I crafted to look like a love letter
because I don’t know how else to say it.
And yes, I do it better than most
of your real friends ever could
We keep our streak going.
We let months go by
which last for two messages,
an unspoken “You didn’t have to answer
but thank you for coming back.”
No, being left on read is not rude,
we haven’t run out of small talk
It’s an electric “Until next time
Love from an imaginary friend
who was lucky enough to come to life.”
Prompt for this week is Fire Extinguisher