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the poet
Nominated for The Pushcart Prize and based in Manchester, England, Kate Vanhinsbergh has seen her poems appear in Frazzled Lit, Black Bough Poetry, Anomaly, Ink, Sweat & Tears, After… and elsewhere. She writes about our planet's climate, grief, love and spirituality, and holds a Masters in Creative Writing from Keele University.
the poems
Dark Matter
A Letter to Netanyahu
Not the helmet of bone,
with its rope
of blood-soaked hair,
nor the separate
forearm and hand
still clutching
whatever, at the last,
was most dear,
but the weighty eye
taken from the head
and washed in water
from your flask —
hold it to the light,
turn it from side to side,
see the images
moving across the surface.
Line up the retina’s maze
with your own
and see the orange grove,
how his wife kneels
in the shade with their son,
the way she smooths
a lock of hair
behind the infant's ear.
We Should Probably
Get Up Now
but outside, the world has paused:
the wind has put down its loneliness,
its fear of never being seen or known,
and next door’s kids have stopped screaming
through the wall. The cats are curled up
around our ankles, and you say you like me
like this, with the sun falling in slabs
through the window,
my curls glowing orange on the pillow.
You touch my cheek
with the backs of your fingers.
In this room, we have nothing but time —
glasses of water, a vase of white roses,
miles of cotton drawn up, spun and spread.
I could've believed that all chances,
all paths crossed, led us home to this:
love’s quiet design
in the present tense.
Optical
Through the window, she lights a candle
with a fizz, small subtraction of air.
I focus on her back, as she crosses the room
to sit at a simple desk.
And why should I not
look through this frame,
reach in and pluck a single ice cube
from the sweating glass on the table,
place it square on my tongue
like I did the word for ‘ice’, hielo?
In the quiet I can hear the ice melt
and collapse against the edge of the glass.
Why should I not, with a strange sense
of honour, and nothing of loss,
observe my former self? I came, and went,
without her knowing.
Publishing credits
Dark Matter / Optical: exclusive first publication by iamb
We Should Probably Get Up Now: Ink, Sweat & Tears
(January 3rd 2026)