Brian China

      Gift Dark from four, because of the rawness I buy plain chicken and some chocolate, turn back the way I’ve come to the pavement shrine of himself beside an alcove where drunks piss, fumble the sandwich handing it to him, “Here, have this.” One...

Paul Waring

      Bus Stop Etiquette We roll up piecemeal, shuffled rush-hour pack in all weathers; fix envious glares into underoccupied kerbcrawl cars blaring rock, pop, classical, duh-duh-duh dance and dumbass ads. It’s Britain so we queue; eyecontactless, heads...

Sarah Doyle

      Snowdrift From solitude to servitude I went: a stepmother’s bane, to maid-of-all-work for grubby curmudgeons. dust     sweep     scrub     sleep How the chores call to me, a broom-brush song that bristles at my hearing’s edge. How grudgingly I...

Moyra Donaldson

      A Sudden Shaft of Light My demented mother who doesn’t know me anymore, looks up as I come into the room. Ach – there’s my wee darling Moyra she says, such love in her voice that everything falls away but love. The slate is clean, and I, new...