Edward Lee


Somehow, during the night,
my bones melted,
leaving me a sunken sack
of skin, barely able to move
beyond a twitch
of finger 
or toe.

Even my teeth 
have become liquid,
gurgling in the back
of my semi-collapsed throat,
my tongue splashing
like a drowning lie
in my folded mouth.

From the corner
of my misshapen eye
I see that you are gone,
the side you lay on
as smooth as though
you were never there.

I wonder was last night
a dream, your body hot against mine,
your breath eager in my mouth,
my name loud and familiar
on your tongue,
and this morning
is some following nightmare
I might wake from
at any moment?

I hope not,
the cruelty of my loneliness
eased by only a dream
too much for me to bare.


The lessons learnt 
in the silence of sleep
are always only half-remembered,
and in this abridgement 
lies our dismissing
of them and 
the better person
we might become
if only we listened
to ourselves
after the noises
of the world 
have come back on.

Edward Lee’s poetry, short stories, non-fiction and photography have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and America, including The Stinging Fly, Skylight 47, Acumen, Flights, The Blue Nib and Poetry Wales.  His play ‘Wall’ was part of Druid Theatre’s Druid Debuts 2020. His debut poetry collection “Playing Poohsticks On Ha’Penny Bridge” was published in 2010. He is currently working towards a second collection.

He also makes musical noise under the names Ayahuasca Collective, Orson Carroll, Lego Figures Fighting, and Pale Blond Boy.

His blog/website can be found at https://edwardmlee.wordpress.com

Flights. Issue Two, September 2021