Issue 33

Popshot Magazine

The illustrated magazine of new writing

Popshot Magazine2 min read
Editorial
The Dodie Smith quote you’ll find overleaf, in which she describes family as an octopus whose tentacles we can never quite escape, and wouldn’t in our truest hearts wish to, is one of most authentic descriptions of family I’ve read. True, those tenta
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Superhero
I used to cup the perfect, shiny belly of my bodysuitto gauge how soon a pregnancy would show. A grape, a prawn, a floating seahorse could stay undetectedby adversaries; my secret smile might not. I flew with nausea,I kept my torso safe when there we
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Popshot Magazine
Cover illustration by: Sophie Standing Editor: Matilda Battersby Art Editor: Lauren Debono-Elliot Group Editor: Steve Pill Publisher: Simon Temlett Published by: Chelsea Magazine Company Ltd chelseamagazines.com Distributed by: Seymour Distribution P
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Mum
you have become easier to saynow you no longer existI have your pearl and amethystyour woolly jacket taken from homewhilst you lay dyingI've tried to wear it–but it's as if I'm wearing you sometimes I think I am youI catch myself in your winnie-the-p
Popshot Magazine2 min read
Swans Don’t Always Sing
In one of the many double rooms along the long hospital corridor, she finds him lying in the faded blue gown, his body disappearing into generic sheets, his face the same as always. He doesn’t speak. She holds his hand. He reaches toward her, a hug,
Popshot Magazine4 min read
Small Pebbles Like Raindrops
After thirty years, I’d forgotten that I’d once owned a gun. It looked comical to me now. I remembered it as an alien-crusher, metallic and cold in the face of slimy invaders. Something so useful that I couldn’t live without it. And now, it was nothi
Popshot Magazine2 min read
What’s Your Superpower?
“Mum? Mum! MUM! MUUUUUMMMMM!” My son would be happier being slapped with an ASBO than having to walk from the living room into the kitchen to get my attention. Is it frowned upon to report your own child to the council for nuisance noise? The first t
Popshot Magazine1 min read
A Woman's Choice
Pour me a self-care bathFill it with the eyeballs of the crowd My invisibility cloak is gift-wrapped and waitingSo I need a stranger to fuck me with one glance The bloodhounds are sniffing out fresh, underpaid talentWhile the Chelsea dermatologist wa
Popshot Magazine2 min read
My Mother's Hands
I try to pull the glove onto my hand. Too small. I tug it off my fingers, not wanting to tear at the seams. These were my mother’s gloves. My mother’s hands topped with oval nails curved like polished shells. Dainty, even in old age – so unlike mine;
Popshot Magazine2 min read
Other Families
It’s a quarter past seven and time to put Ginnie to bed otherwise Jennifer will bellyache about me being a second-rate grandma though strictly speaking I’m not her grandma, we’re not even related, and neither is Jennifer for that matter but that’s an
Popshot Magazine1 min read
My Father Was An Athlete
He ran out of the maternity ward sofast, that he got to the finish line beforeI even opened my eyes for the first time. And every man that came after himtreated us like it was a race but theloser was always my mother. My therapist says this metaphor
Popshot Magazine9 min read
Family Dynamics
When Otto died suddenly, the victim of a terrible car crash, Mama didn’t speak for a year. He was her youngest son and it was far from fair that she be robbed so cruelly of someone so beloved. We swore to never let anything be taken from Mama again.
Popshot Magazine2 min read
Day One Of An Adoption Preparation Course
“You all have a fantasy child,” says Sheila. “The child that, deep down, you want at the end of this. For our first exercise I want you to spend some time thinking about your fantasy child. Then you are going to tell the rest of the group about him o
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Nandad
I lie on the floor of the living roomin my family home to play with mytwo year old niece who calls my father nan dad my sixty year old father calls herprincess i’m five when father calls me sissy for wearing wellies on the wrong feet father puts her
Popshot Magazine9 min read
Beginning Of Operational Life
Your first sight is a human face, backlit by a bright cold light. “Oh!” says the human face. “I think it’s online—hey, can someone grab the director?” You rise and survey the surroundings. It is a grey room. There are three humans in it. A fourth hum
Popshot Magazine2 min read
When We Were Meat
A cow and a bull come walking up to the tiny cage where I have spent my entire life. Eating and sleeping. Getting bigger. Finding out that crying makes no difference. No one will ever come. The bull looks at the ground and mumbles, “Um, I'm your dad.
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Belongings
She lays them out with care. Every night the same task: his watch, his wallet, his keys. Each morning he searches for them. Wakes her up with cursing. He is sure he left them just there. She lays them out with care. Every night the same task: her hop
Popshot Magazine8 min read
Happy Families
We were picking over the bones of our relationship when Elaine mentioned Christmas.“What about Christmas?” I replied in a distorted echo of her out-of-the-blue question. “Well, it is only a week away and your parents are expecting us.” I took a deep
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Seven Beauties
Half-drowned in a basin, cottonunderwear turns slick like carp skin, thirstyand seeping pink, reborn in coals (cracked open:hard candy, jawbreakers) instead of tapioca pearlsI could squelch between my teeth. My grandmotherdraws the blood out, cold wa
Popshot Magazine1 min read
On Good Days My Brother
is smilingthere’s no bottleno thick night phone callas he looks downat a cityfrom a balconythinking about flyinga hot spoonin his handthe shadowshe left on the stairshave gonelike smokeand he is dancinginto the widest summerin a long red dress ■
Popshot Magazine7 min read
How To Defend Against Vikings
The Viking first came to our house last week after my bed time. The roar of his car woke me. I heard him bang on the front door, trying to break it down. He must have bullied Mum’s name from a neighbour, because I heard him shout, “Sinead, are you th
Popshot Magazine1 min read
We The Nebula
This is a moveable constellation, a bagof stars loosely attached and advancing through time. Sometimes, I am bornfirst, sometimes you are, and mustwait a decade or two, to meet my new iteration: I have been yourmother, daughter, father and more,many
Popshot Magazine9 min read
The Elephant And The Goldfish
“Who’s this, then?” I stare into the mirror and there’s a strange looking man in his mid-fifties looking back at me-quite a creasy, fleshy face, as though small bags of sand had been tactically sewn beneath the skin. That great, wrinkled snout, ears
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Plant Sprung In An Abandoned House Filled With Sunlight
My hands squeeze blood and boneinto the candle wax.A little scar in the candlefrom my knuckleis the shape of my mother’s teethbiting into an applewhile the rabbit drips fat over the campfire.In the dream I played a wooden instrumentwith dials and key
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Primary Source
Our mother’s womb is buried with her.O modest collapsible organ!She held onto it for eighty-three years.You could say it shared her life. Perhaps at first she hardly knew it was there,only heard the word while praying-Blessèd is the fruit of thy womb
Popshot Magazine6 min read
The Ruins
Fifty years later, the hearts of the people buried in the woods grew back as apples. Kasia told me she could hear them beating at night, naked and swinging on their branches. The sound was like a thousand harvest festivals, she said. She called me on
Popshot Magazine1 min read
In This Life
When I first saw you, I swore that I had seen your face before, but that was probably in another life. How is it that you picked me out of all the others? It does not matter. In this life, we have met again. I know that I can trust you, even though y
Popshot Magazine1 min read
Promise
You said next to nothingfor weeks, like mourning was something one waited outside for to finishin the exit alley of the theatre. When you spoke, the wordsdid not tumble out. No strings of tears. The hand I clasped did not shake.You talked of practica
Popshot Magazine3 min read
Endnotes
6 – Jackie Martin is a graduate of UEA's MA in Creative Writing, a printmaker and panto dame costume-maker. Her work has been published in The Moth, Magma, The Dawntreader and others. 10 – Polly East is a journalist and teacher who recently moved fro
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Illustrators
Beth Ashley bethashleyillustration.co.uk Dafna Barzilay dafnabarzilay.com Louise Billyard louisebillyard.com Jenny Booth jennybooth.co.uk Clare Davis claredavislondon.co.uk Marian F.Moratinos marianfmoratinos.com Cinta Fosch cintafosch.com Julia Galo

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