Mother, I’ve Let the fruit rot by Aisling Timoney (Ireland, 22)

​A starless ceiling encapsulates my mind,
Fruit never harvested, nothing to multiply.

A fertile garden flourishes in fruit.
Be fooled not, for it’s all a façade.
Come, look closer, and peer over the wall.
The figs have grown black and fallen to my feet
And out from pomegranates crawl a grumble of maggots
Eager to escape this fate.

I’ve angered some divinity.
This ultimate treason committed against Rhea and Demeter
I’m Tantalus in disguise, I’ve let them rot.

A nulliparous witch
Raised by a mother who honours the harvest.
I confess, she’s reaped an atheist among her plough.
She takes the truth as a failure on her part.
It’s not on you,
Motherhood is not in my cards.

This heritable disposition ends here.
I’ve swapped the sickle for a scythe.
Birthed the weeds who’ll invade the fruit.
This wasted womb bears no constraints.
A belly filled on filbert worms.



Aisling Timoney is an English literature student at Maynooth University where she has been partaking in the university's selected creative writing modules led by Kildare's Art Council writer in residences this past academic year. These classes have pushed Aisling to begin publishing her work this year. Aisling's work is inspired by her love of mythology and delves into themes of girlhood, religious guilt and the relationship between body and nature. Aisling spends her spare time devouring coffee and books. She is a proud mum to her two dogs Misty and Daisy.