.png)
Simon Alderwick
back
next
the poet
Raised in Surrey and now settled in Oxford after several years of moving between various locations in England, Wales and the Philippines, Simon Alderwick is the author of poetry pamphlet ways to say we’re not alone. His poems have been featured in Magma, Anthropocene, Ink Sweat & Tears, Berlin Lit, Acropolis, Dust Poetry Magazine and elsewhere. Simon's debut collection, reaper in a headlock, will be published by Broken Sleep Books in 2026.
the poems
love in the age
of extinction
hot day on her lips,
record-breaking thighs.
no ice left when she tells me
– we need a circular economy.
she breaks the bones in my fingers,
feeds me water – filtered – through a paper
straw. straddles me, hushes my concerns,
this aging population.
she knows love’s impossible, keeps
sandbags stacked against the door.
we can't die out like dinosaurs – she
says – we are God's chosen creatures.
but her laugh, a tipping point.
she drills me until she strikes oil.
we spill across the bedroom floor.
smoke like chimneys after.
she says: the future’s out on Mars.
– i don’t think we’ll make it.
when she's gone my cat brings me
birds fallen from the sky.
the game
my daughter holds
a red building block to her cheek,
says: hello. i pick up
another brick, say: hello.
no daddy, she says, taking my hand,
you’re in London.
she walks me to the bedroom;
goes out; closes the door.
i put my ear
to the receiver of the block.
i can hear her through the door.
hello. brick heavy in my hand.
i miss you. my hand against my head.
when are you coming home?
i tell her soon. i tell her
i’m on the airplane. i break down
the bedroom door. holding
my arms out like an airplane;
fly around the front room;
land in the front garden;
run to the front door.
my daughter runs to me
kicking toys across the floor.
i hold her in my arms.
it’s a silly game
but it feels good
to make a game of it
at last.
flubbergust
can't come out today –
bit of a mad one
i was opening a packet of crisps
and found a blue whale inside
i said: normally the packaging
is inside you
but he failed to see the funny side
i called a number
on the crisp packet
but i don’t think the girl was listening
she said it should go out with the general waste
i said for the love of god
it's still alive
Publishing credits
love in the age of extinction: exclusive first publication by iamb
the game: shortlisted for The Telegraph Poetry Competition 2022
flubbergust: Magma 81