Donald Zirilli

      The Night A gymnasium with crepe paper and leather soles, an iron box with only singles, rain without the drop, a clever dance where the floor taps our shoes. I cling to your scapula, your hand, like clothespins, like darkness, following the...

Mark Totterdell

      Stars Emerging from the tent at 3am, you see this field of fools, that hedge, the sea, all subtly lit by an array of stars in numbers that your mind cannot compute. They’re barnacles fixed on a dark flat rock, and that faint streak of quartz marks...

Steph Ellen Feeney

      New same Year                                                             January 2021     Every day,           I am a mother, and I am asked   to explain things I don’t really                understand   – like contrails      or the...

Rebecca Faulkner

      Half Brother (It rained, remember?) We climbed to the roof, took turns dying our bodies glistened & shook, mist from our tongues I step into your game screaming I get five lives! (but you always win) Hold your breath, count to ten cut your...