Rosalind Easton: a poem
Bra Fitting, Mayfair I wonder if this might be Lingerie Oz: Toto, I don’t think we’re in Marks & Spencer anymore. Behind the cubicle's...
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ONE HAND CLAPPING
Nkateko Masinga: a poem
third world birds how lucky some birds must be to fly at whim – i, though eager to fly to him, must gather more than my limbs to go:...
Samuel Tongue: a poem
Rauhnächte / Twelve Nights Although times are thin, this time between the years is the thinnest; a blue creak of snow, the lucky print of...
Steve Xerri: a poem
New Year Ritual, Seaford Head Time is massing in these red-stained cliffs, riven & leaning, with only a bluff of icy air to resist the...
Anna Terék: a poem
Back On The Sun Can you see the earth, mister? Nice, unbroken soil. Though the sun beats it with her fists every morning, strains it...
Senem Gökel: a poem
Portrait of a Cypriot Family Four generations. That thing that has never forgiven us lay there the entire winter like an undisturbed...
Zita Izso: a poem
Photograph by Laura Veres Ice When mother was beating me, she locked the bathroom door and started to run water. It seemed to take so...
Bob Beagrie: a poem
Photograph by Kev Howard The Red String Frost on the rooftiles; the low afternoon tongues the grooves. Pleasure, tell me again, twice...
Matthew Paul: a poem
Bleasdale Sometimes I remember paragliders pushing off from high up on Parlick, into spluttering bluster and walloping rain, as my eyes...
Jennifer A. McGowan: a poem
Photograph by Tom McKinnell Narrow I place both my feet into one of your shoes the act surprisingly intimate, shy, like the first time...
Sheila Jacob: a poem
Nest You were never keen on flowers. Good money gone west you huffed when you cleaned the Lady Chapel at church, got down on your knees...
Kate Gold: a poem
Ayisha They can't believe their eyes. Strolling through their dappled afternoon: their stone bridges and rose cottages; their brook,...
Michael Schmidt: a poem
A Bright Jewel in an Aethiope's Ear for John McAuliffe That was Stockport. No one got off at Stockport. It's after midnight. Very nearly...
Will Eaves: a poem
Photograph by John Cairns Perfectly Good Legs for Kristin Headlam God didn't like his skinny legs and made better ones for mankind from...
Ruth Taaffe: a poem
Fishing with Ted Hughes That process of raid, or persuasion, or ambush, or dogged hunting, or surrender, is the kind of thinking we have...
Catherine Gander: a poem
/Str/anger The root of the word “anger” is “tight, painfully constricted”. The root of the word “guest” houses the root of the word...
Frank Dullaghan: a poem
Islands These islands would float off were they not locked to the mainland by bridges; if small boats did not occasionally go out and...
David Leo Sirois: a poem
Everything Has Its Music Everything has its music. Everything is singing. Francophone pop from a passing car; shrill tyres at a stop...
Angela France: a poem
Suddenly, a frog Not a leaf, nor a lighter piece of bark from the tight-packed, plastic-wrapped bundle I'd wrestled from the car into the...
Agnes Marton: a poem
The Carcass Pit It was my turn to climb down. We'd been biting the air; it wasn't enough. I stepped on fever flies, barefoot. (No cash...
Stephen Boyce: a poem
Darjeeling Summer Flush Returning the leaves to the pot he'd drained, he contemplated the second steeping. This he'd enjoy at a different...
Steve Kronen: a poem
A Slight Misunderstanding Certainly, we can clear it up: who was tupped in the cloakroom, if directions to the hospital were clear, if...
Paul O'Prey: a poem
Blitz My mother heard the siren scream, ran for the shelter, felt the ground shudder and the houses tremble. Later she found clothes and...
Christina M. Rau: a poem
"There is no still moment" Heart here is not a metaphor my fist heart atria ventricles it moves pause it moves pause slightly...
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