Words by A Wensley

Iridescence I was drawn to stand by the window That day, The day you were making jam, Sugar-crystalled strawberries simmering; 'Going-over' fruit bought by the box For a few pounds. As I leant my tear-stained cheek on the window frame, That day, Distress caught my ear; An intense tapping on glass, A frantic flapping on fabric, A dire need seeking escape.  And in that moment That day, The sky-blue curtain in my hand A flash of iridescence Crossed my line of sight And flew free. I turned, exclaiming my joy, That day, "A dragonfly, a beautiful dragonfly!" You, a diabetic, continued to fill the jars With the warm jam, Translucent in your selflessness. A Wensley 3.08.2026

Mutual Through the heatwave - You stand tall against the burning sun - Xylem coursing - Veins protruding - Leaves drying, falling - Bark cracking - Limbs creaking - Fear exuding - Pheromones screaming - “Hold me!” Senses morphing - Girth holding - Stomata breathing - CO2 absorbing - Oxygen exhaling - Oxygen absorbing - CO2 exhaling - Anxiety lifting - Sky shifting - Rain gifting - Thirst quenching - Mycorrhizal sharing - Roots connecting - And as I walk beside you - Barefoot - Respectful - Allegorical - Transformational - This feels like the very definition of - “Mutual”. A Wensley 27.07.2026 Inspired by the pheromones released by a tree at Othona and a conversation about the origins of the word "Mutual" amongst the poets present at the July Jawbone Workshop.

21 I watch with tenderness  as you rub your thumb over it's patina; A two inch silver penknife With two small blades, one pointless, And a pair of tiny scissors. I watch the hard edges of your demeanour soften, Your heart stop in your mouth, And the shine in your eyes glisten with a dawning dew, As you prise each sacred part open Revealing memories of your 21st, Colin, and the fire it had survived. It was lost, presumed forever, 5 years ago, around the time you'd moved,  (been moved enough to move in with me), 21 years our age gap,  21, the number on our door. Finding this special fragment of your memory Beneath my own today, Buried under papers I'd not moved since our move, Held a mirror to our future, through our shared patina, Two hearts cosmically punctured by two small blades. A Wensley 14.07.2026 (Our 7th Barrington-anniversary)

Sunset over Tesco Express (3) It's the end.  Another hottest day hangs in the sky, As our definitive, great red ball of fire Motions to the moon Passing it's solar-powered baton -  To illuminate our discrepancies Before dropping below the horizon. Under the PM's priority radar, The cost-of-living-crisis-poor Crawl out, from their debt-ridden homes, Blink at the apocalyptic sky, And forage for food In the aisles of our local Tesco Express, where,  Just like the barcodes Of the yellow ticket items In the reduced section,  The thin white and the thin black line up together, Praying to the retail gods For the dawn of common sense...  While Starmer steps aside From making headline news For someone 'more sensational'. A Wensley 15.06.2023/Re-worked 23.06.2026

My body is an ecosystem My body is an ecosystem You do not need to scratch the surface to find me,  my heart is on my sleeve. You do not need to embrace me with the arms of consumerism, bathe me in expensive perfumes, Or cover me with synthetic fibres**, I have no lust for the proliferation of man-made,  in the name of fast fashion,  I'm more impressed that you love the Earth, for me. Me: My surface beaming with inner joy, naturally, Moles and freckles out there for all to see, Hair in places others frown with pencilled lines upon, query, Ecosystems in every pore, Sure, Delicate as a flower Yet strong as strong can be, Yes, Me. Mightier with Nature be, Ecologically, chemical-free, Knock down the doors that banish thee, From the norms of society, Wash yes but not persistently, Save water, yes, and energy, Flush with pride, it's not insanitary  To give your pee some company Before it all goes out to sea Treated, yes, oh definitely! Aye and there's the rub, The chemical...

Screenshot: Nomophobia (Winging it) Agape our collective chick-mouths loll as big-tech feeds us another tasty worm Bite-sized Reels that wriggle and writhe between synapse and sigh-naps Algorithm after algorithm  burrowing with peristalsis-loco-parentis-motion  Deep into our conscious-soil effecting Worm-holes in our Evolutionary Involuntary reflex-motions Our life-force reduced to that of excreta You used to embody such motions Those that should naturally Always be in attendance Attuned Agape To our One Sacred Mother  Who stands on the edge of her fragile nest Winging it Spork in hand (the one without the phone surgically attached camera primed ready to snap  every First this and that  for her socials Memories to share Content to consume over and over again…)  “Here comes the aeroplane!”  Glazed eyes Don't Look Up  Such is the lure Of the Endless Feed A. Wensley Selected by Jawbone for publication in Issue 3 of The Jawbone Journal - Out July 2026...