Stella Wulf is an MA graduate from Lancaster University. She has a deep love of the natural world and a fascination for politics, and the human condition—themes that she explores in her poetry. She has poems in several anthologies, including the award winning #MeToo. Placed third in the Sentinel Literary Competition, nominated for Best New Poet 2018, Stella’s poems have been widely published. Journals include: The New European, The French Literary Review, Prole, Rat’s Ass Review, Riggwelter, and many others. She is co-editor of 4Word Press who published her pamphlet, After Eden, in 2018.

If I were to tell you

I could pour that red sea of sky

or say that in a wink

with its bristly cones and bottle-brush limbs

or without a blink I were to say

that four-square field with its mooching cows

in the red-veined sky—

‘My Eye!’

You will need a generous vessel and plenty of time to prepare.

Take a goodly handful of offal, some thick skin, some home-grown truths,

chop into bitesize pieces. Do not discard the meagre scraps

of bitterness, the unsavoury offcuts of grudge –

the fat of failure, the gristle of shame, the hairy matters,

are what give this dish its piquancy.

Lay them carefully around the spleen, bloody side up,

drown the tripe in a lot of bottle and the proof of good spirit.

Simmer. Some parts will bubble up like scum, or float,

to the surface, bloated as dead fish, some will sink to the scoured depths,

heavy as overstuffed hearts. Don’t despair. Season with the grist

of hard grind, a pinch of salt, and allow to mellow for as long as it takes.

Check your life regularly. If it ceases to fizz or settles into a vapid stew,

throw in a liberal measure of spice and give it a good shake.

Have patience. Maturity will give it a bold, gamey character.

Your life is ready to serve when it is neither too sweet nor too bitter,

Serve it with a smile and a sparkling wit.