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Kate Jenkinson
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the poet
Dr Kate Jenkinson is scientist and poet reconciled – and one of a handful of LinkedIn Business Poets. Her work has appeared in publications such as Flights, Feral and Steel Jackdaw. In 2022, she performed her TEDx talk Poetry Never Abandons Us. Two years later, her debut collection Un/Broken was born. Kate is the founder of the groundbreaking Poetry in Business Conference, launched in 2024, with its mission of creating more paid jobs for poets. Her neurodivergence and aphantasia are both features of her recent work. She also likes hats, writing about the many she wears.
the poems
Curated Chaos
INCOMING TEXT: ‘It’s been a right faff. But I’ve got it sorted.’
Love is:
changing a tyre at 10.30pm so I can go to my poetry workshop,
and he can play golf
Love is:
asking if you want to eat tea together
Love is:
eating tea together
ADHD is:
forgetting you said you would eat tea together,
getting distracted
and forgiveness.
Zuihitsu legitimises distraction
allowing me to follow
the flow
of a busy brain.
Lyrics that are my life’s soundtrack
I’ll tell you what
What I have found
That I’m no fool
I’m just upside down.
Kairos time is my favourite.
It’s not chronology.
It’s being ready to seize
the moment!
Is a neurodivergent brain
synonymous with creativity?
I think it could be.
Would you be interested in attending more live events
in Hebden Bridge or the local area?
I don’t know what the local area means, so how do I answer that question?
I definitely want to attend more live events in the North as opposed to virtual,
but I really miss the chat function – which is ironic
(it should be called the random thoughts function).
Random thoughts I have often that infiltrate and illuminate my dreams:
• losing my teeth
• resitting my ‘A’ Levels
• getting to school late
and then waking to remember I’m 55 and I can never be late for school again.
Ducks sound like they are laughing
– well they would – they outlasted the dinosaurs.
Corporal Punishment
I pushed you hard: in sport,
in study, in life, at work.
I burnt you out three times at least.
I neglected, ignored, dehydrated
and undernourished you.
Dear Body,
I am sorry I didn’t learn
to love you more
when we were young.
I only noticed you in pain
or pleasure, never
in-between.
I rebelliously loved the features
others called out in playground names:
rubber lips, hairy legs, melancholy eyes.
I had to cover up
for shame of exposing thighs,
‘above the knee’, that others
should not see. Now I wish
I had been there for you, as you
have always been there for me.
Had I understood your needs
I may not have fallen so low.
Menopause feels like your revenge
as you demand attention
through every wayward regulation.
P.S.
I will do my best to listen,
to understand the transformation
we are going through.
I must accept this for what it is:
a time to be wise, womanly, mature.
Where sleep, thoughts, thermoregulation,
nutrition, heart beats, beauty
are in transition.
Body,
I will learn to love you more.
Forgotten
I forget.
Then remember
I’ve forgotten to forget, again.
A repeating pattern.
Every time the shame,
the stinking shame of it
screws my face, makes me gag.
Those reeking memories
plague me. Remind me
of all I wish I’d done for me,
instead of giving that promise
of a better life
to someone else.
I could have asked for help.
But a strong woman has no voice.
She shoulders the burden mute;
stubborn as a beaten mule.
She digs in deeper.
Calloused hands dig so deep,
she is buried in remembering.
And only when she’s six foot
under,
coffin-deep,
bone-cold,
where no-one
can hear her,
forgotten:
she screams.
Publishing credits
Curated Chaos / Forgotten: exclusive first publication by iamb
Corporal Punishment: Un/Broken (Poetic Edge Publishers)