Julia Stothard

      Heartland I am growing grass inside my ribs; fluted blades twisting their leading edge in meadows of flesh. There are fields of this. Where the lark has left, the wind gusts through – I have become its hollow short-cut and you are corridors...

Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana

      Realisation about a friend slowly and deliberately you draw information out of me the way my son eats a strawberry holding firmly onto the green stem sucking it down to the pulp     Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana lived in Japan for 10...

Liz Lefroy

      Egg Inside, it’s containment: a smooth shell curving away into itself, taut around a thin membrane which closes on its viscous, one-celled strength; and it’s a silent circling of mass, unused to air, unexposed to the risk of strange heats, to the...

John Greening

      At Christmas All Easyjet flights are cancelled – only difficult journeys now. Three in party hats come dragging their presents over a snowy car park. A few attendants shepherd them into a building: the call to desert places. Looking up for a...