“When I die, I won’t be dead.”

Hole in the slab asks what goodness survives beneath concrete and chaos. These poems move through spit, grief, and the quiet violence of a woman’s own reflection. 

Can strength exist without harm? Can we make safety from ruin? Among the rage of powerlessness, something tender still fights to grow here.

This work was created on the 2025 GOBS Collective residency, with support from Bad Betty Press, the Arvon Foundation and Arts Council England.