Poetry by Nick Newman
In the reflection, silence wears my face, slinks
behind my eyes, purrs as (I) ripple.
When we are born
our brains see up as down, as if
caught in the habit of watching from beneath.
Nick Newman (he/him) grew up in China and Scotland, and studies English Lit at the Uni of Leeds. His work is forthcoming in Mineral Lit Mag, Stone of Madness, and Lucky Pierre, and you can find him procrastinating on twitter @_NickNewman.