As I sit imagining sewing name tags into the shirts of all the children I never had

by Zoë Davis

13 February 2026

let me tell you about the silence wounds it darns

though I tremor fault lines lie outside body crust

reconnect calloused heart veins elastic stretched no more

in my dreams I killed the horses not rode them memento vivere

so let me tell you about the silence wounds it darns

blue hand stretched Ophelia’s hair around a glass

one flat on earth’s infant chest balanced until souls breathe

with stars a muteness of worms as linen creases

flows a clew a bed

if I were not already deceived.

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about the author

Zoë Davis is an emerging writer from Sheffield, England. She's a stubborn FND sufferer and fights what her body says she can't do by playing wheelchair rugby league. In her free time she writes poetry and prose, and especially enjoys exploring the interaction between the fantastical and the mundane, with a deeply personal edge to her work. You can find her words in publications such as: Ink Sweat & Tears, Strix, Roi Fainéant, Dust and Red Ogre Review. You can also follow her on X @MeanerHarker where she's always happy to have a virtual coffee and a chat.