Fall at 33 weeks, by Liz Quirke


She said it was like falling

on a small dog


that she felt each rattling jolt

of baby bones


barely wrapped in paper thin skin

push down to meet concrete


She said she heard her own weight

cover and crunch that small shape


all four pounds


She didn’t have time to catch herself or react

didn’t know what had happened


until strangers

lifted her from the steps


She surrendered to the slope of a hospital bed

her body to ill-angled foam


lay prone as machines read signs we couldn’t see

traced brainwaves and pulses to tell us the worst



Liz Quirke lives in Spiddal, Co Galway with her wife and daughters. Her poetry has appeared in various publications, most recently New Irish Writing in the The Irish Times and The Best New British and Irish Poets 2016 by Eyewear Publishing. She has been shortlisted in the Emerging Poetry category of the 45th Hennessy Literary Awards.


Read more by Liz Quirke here or check out our highly recommended books by Bogmans Cannon founders Dave Lordan & Karl Parkinson.