Poetry. Accidents, by Dominic Palmer. Image: the silhouettes of a man and a woman face away from each other. In the middle of the letter 'D' is a knife.


Sunday evening finds us in the kitchen.

You’re washing up, I’m rolling flatbreads out

with tension like a mortise in my gut.


We’ve heard the news: a relative of yours,

a garden afternoon, a sudden slip,

and somehow, that was it. My hands still grip


the rolling pin, yours soak in a dishless sink.

We glance towards the fissure, look for ways

to say in silence what we need to say.


And I, clumsy, reach across a stack

of nearby trays, nudging the balance out:

two knives clatter to the floor and gouge


one small divot out of the laminate.

I flinch. You catch my eye. The silence flickers.

Dominic Palmer

Dominic Palmer is a teacher, writer, and church musician living in Manchester.
His poems have previously been published in Ekstasis, Amethyst Review, and Solid Food Press.
Dominic and his wife have recently become parents for the first time, so he is currently quite sleep deprived, but full of wonder.

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