Magma Selected highlights a single poet who is emerging or whose work deserves to be better known, allowing us to publish a wider selection of poems. Our Selected Poet for this issue is Rushika Wick
Oh I am a charlatan, a fake
give me a glass and I’ll follow you
into the vertical fields of mind.
It doesn’t take much to have me
fawning over Berthold Brecht
and other such paraphernalia,
where dappled rain spills wine out
of glasses spattering across cloth,
sweeping up a storm of nothing
and into nothing further than
the reaches of what could be,
a kind of peace flickering
in and out of focus like the first day
or when I catch your glance unaware.
I’m there where our fingers brush
catching the billowing table cover,
coffee stains documenting
a camera of blue cotton,
I’m there at the fraying edge,
fluttered by the threads
a long heat on me.