Jennie Howitt
- Pamenar Press
- Jun 1
- 2 min read
Jennie Howitt is a writer and performer from Shropshire, currently researching bog poetics. She just completed the MA in Poetic Practice at Royal Holloway, where she was the Royal Holloway Picture Gallery Composer in Residence in 2023. She is currently the judge, creative facilitator, and workshop leader for the Young Poets Network Bog Poetics Challenge in collaboration with Bog Talk. She was a Foyles Young Poet in 2016, long-listed for National Poetry Competition 2019, and highly commended in various Young Poets Network competitions. Jennie’s work has also featured in Poets Choice, Ariel Magazine, Bedford Square Review, Writers Block, Beyond Words magazine, and multiple Young Writers anthologies. She has spoken multiple times on BBC radio about the importance of poetry for young people.
the spider
is chartering
her line of web
the thinnest string
between
thistle bushes
spanning longer
than a half field
body blended
with the brown prongs
steeped below
overlaying
until she’s crossed
every branch
with her little
spindle body
& when
the wind comes harshly
she falls
unfalls
clawing to a grass strand
& up again she goes
threading legs
spreading far
as a focus
bog enters
an ear
shudders into its coils
water holds jolt
transmits it up spine
mud slicks under nail
mounds heave under skin
little dark hairs strand out of a foot
prongs short as a width
blisters layer a heel
a spider crawls on a lip
slips into the mouth
onto sponge tongue
algae mesh
green against black
a slug enters the nose
gets stuck in the sinus
slime slides down the throat
casts the hidden underearth
into depths of the chest
foxglove
is a spinal cord inhaling
is a chest stretching open inhaling
is a stack of little lungs inhaling
is gasping with a stinger inhaling
is tinged pink as a mistake inhaling
is a lodging unplucking inhaling
is placed every three paces inhaling
is unmoved by the wind sway inhaling
voice caught inhaling
soundless inhaling
bog body
rosacea moss rises
hides the body underneath
which can only be heard
if a stranger is willing
to slowly wade in
under thistle-stack boundary
with a footing sound the voice
unearth ground long untouched
hear a body existing
hear a mouth sprouting up
tiny insect in pond
is debris
almost floating
fingers threat ripples
speckle wades
into black
moth silhouettes
cling to a curtain
brown paper brittle
still as a nettle
the stranger interrupts
wings shatter into black
the stranger turns over
& exits their sleep

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