Anna Kirwin

      Once it’s gone, it won’t come back Go to your fields And go to your fen. Go to your tiny Patches of scrub. Breathe the green Whilst it lingers still. Go to your trees And breathe in their bark. Feel the ground undulate Free of concrete. Look to...

Hannah Linden

      The Change I wasn’t going to come to the party but you threw bright covers over the noisy magpies who were pecking all the grain – there are still scratch marks on the carpet where they learnt to dance the watusi whilst pretending to be hip. And...

Rebecca Shamash

      She Lives Alone She lives in the 6am coffee before the alarm, before school. The light on the water on her skin in the shower, in the way her feet are then young and familiar on the tiles, childlike in their delightful lace of bubbles. She lives...

Isabelle Thompson

      Minimalist you play me Philip Glass on video call behind you I see trees in motion stopping and starting as the connection wavers the green fronds repeat the same movement minutely varied and the music builds its slender momentum there is so much...